


Isekai Tentacle Monster Queen

by LadyTyrannica



Category: Original Work
Genre: Consensual, Consentacles, Cum Eating, Cum Swallowing, Cunnilingus, Deep throat, F/F, Fantasy, Female-Centric, Fingerfucking, Grinding, Harem, Hermaphrodites, High Fantasy, Hive Mind, Impregnation, Isekai, It's all women and a female tentacle monster thing, Kissing, Lactation, Lesbian, Milking, Minor inflation, Multiple Partners, NO rape, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Other, Pregnancy, Queen - Freeform, Scent Kink, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Yuri, cum, female cum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 148,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23713126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTyrannica/pseuds/LadyTyrannica
Summary: A corporate c-suite executive finds herself summoned to another world. The goddesses overseeing it, however, have a special plan for her--transformed into a mythical species of tentacle monster, she has quite the daunting task before her! Saving the world, building a royal harem, and growing a hive of her own ... what exactly are those goddesses planning? Avaron just hopes she'll get some peace and quiet in this hectic mess!
Comments: 70
Kudos: 287





	1. You Want What

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to those who are new, and those who are returning.
> 
> This story is a bit of an experiment--I often write prototypes to test out ideas, but never really put them out publicly. Most are not really readable, either. For this, I worked more on a stream of consciousness method along a conventional story narrative ... ish. A lot of new kinks and ideas show up, some things I've never worked on myself. Its served well to stretch my mind and consider new approaches.
> 
> It'd be best to see this as the literary equivalent of a sketch. I'm just plotting out the roughest of drafts and letting it out in the wild. I've no intention to work on it as a serious story, but I figured some people would like to read its content all the same. There will be grammar, structure, and other issues aplenty.
> 
> Please enjoy it for what it is.
> 
> As ever I strive to write lesbian content, but I can understand how some people will think I am bending the rules of that idea here. Reader discretion is advised somewhat, principally concerning the themes of female tentacles, egg impregnations, hinted at birthing, milk drinking, and a lot of female cum.

_Born of Heaven and Flesh_

_Bring what cannot be bought_

_Give what violence cannot give._

*~*

Staring up at the smooth-bricked ceiling, Avaron still wasn’t certain what material it was made out of. Her gut believed it to be granite, but it lacked the bespeckling she was used to seeing. Being a bit of a lighter gray also threw her off. _I can’t believe I’m reduced to this now,_ she thought with a humourless chuckle. _Goodness, even in a world like this medieval jails are incredibly boring._

At least she had a nice bed and some kind of beauty-station meets dresser. Small torch-holders lined the lines, carrying awfully bright, luminous crystals. A plain creamy-colored rug covered most of the floor, while an iron-clad door lined with silver filigree marked the only way in or out. It might’ve been a nice hotel room, if there was a window and wood walls. Sitting up with a huff, Avaron’s shimmering blue eyes fell down to her hands. The pale, white-porcelain of her skin sat in the light, odd blemishes here and there. Deep, darker blue veins crisscrossed beneath the ‘skin’, not a hint of red humanity at all to be seen.

Pushing her fingers together and poking at her own skin, it smushed and deformed as ordinarily as ever. _I can’t blame them for freaking out. Not exactly human anymore, am I?_

Still, being a divine heroine, she half-expected more reasonable treatment. _These folk don’t trust their own goddesses do they?_

Then again, a few days ago she was in a boardroom for the annual wrap-up report.

Avaron sighed and drearily looked up at the ceiling again. “Lady, I’m willing to help but I’m a little stuck here.”

It’s not like her ‘blessings’ would be of any help either. For want of any divine response, she looked instead to the menu that popped into existence in front of her. A blue-backed panel, lined with a golden frame and flourishing flowery filigree, contained such helpful information like ‘skills’ and ‘inventory’. She even had a level counter and experience gauge, practically a complete set of features from sort of RPG video game. _I’m appreciative of it, at least,_ she mused, opening her skills and peering down the list once again.

_But what is_ this _?_

[Primal Infusion], [Divine Blessing: Unity], [Divine Regeneration], [Hive Queen], and [Genetic Engineering]. Each one after another was just utterly _wild_ for her to read. Even crazier, their descriptions really just painted into one specific, lecherous corner. _Why would goddesses turn me into a damn tentacle monster?_

Well, ‘tentradom’, which was her species title. The folk in the church’s summoning room freaked out when they saw her, screaming about a tentradom. Then the knights came, then the throwing into the jail room, and then her utter boredom. She hadn’t much of a time to get a word in, or talk with the other twelve people she’d ended up being ‘summoned’ with. Avaron sighed despondently.

The sound of metal sliding cut through the air, and her head lifted toward the door. More metal locks being moved, followed by the ever louder, frantic voices on the other side. Arguments, but too muffled for her to make out. Avaron watched bemusedly as the door opened, and a woman in knightly armor stepped in, followed by a man in priestly robes. Their argument seemed to die instantly upon seeing her sitting on the bed.

“You are her?” the woman asked, obviously dubious.

“No, the one you want is three doors down.”

The blonde-haired woman blinked, her blue eyes rather befuddled for a moment. She turned toward the priest, who whispered something to her. Then she turned back, rather annoyed looking with how her round face creased. “Your jest is ill-placed, tentradom.”

“Lady, first I landed in some strange room then I got locked into here. Who even are you people?” Avaron demanded, throwing her hands up with exasperation. They all tensed at the motion, the knightly woman and the other knights behind her edging toward their weapons for a moment. _That_ made Avaron pause, the reflexive motion all-too-telling on its own.

_I see. So I’m dangerous to them._

A commotion came from behind, the sound of a woman demanding passage. The knights parted in an awkward shuffle, only the woman and the priest left. _Another priest?_

Turning around, the knightly woman said, “It isn’t safe for you.”

“Mine flame decree tis!” The third party, definitely another woman, declared. Her voice had the air of one unused to speaking loudly, and an odd sort of scratching harshness to her tone. “Thy impertinence wears thin.”

“You were allowed as a courtesy, the Church doesn’t permit you to interfere,” the priest said with a direness to his tone.

“Thy Church already defies the covenant, yet hath the gall to put on airs?”

A loud scoff followed, and Avaron saw a rather curious sight force itself past the knightly woman and the priest. Another woman, maybe around five feet in height and the shortest person here, dressed in black, ashen-colored robes. A hood concealed her head, while motley bandages wrapped her hands and neck. Avaron gaze, most of all, fell into the sparkling fire she held in her palms. Larger than a bic lighter’s flame, it whipped and curled, brushing the bandages but never once igniting them.

The new woman paused, her visor-hidden face leaning in to regard the flame in her palms. She looked up to Avaron, then back to the flame, and then let out a long, pleased sigh. “Tis thee indeed!” she said, almost talking to herself. In stepping closer, the others at the door sharply let out warnings, but none were heeded. Avaron leaned back, angling to get up as the stranger came ever closer. She scooted across the bedding, coming to rest against the headboard, while the stranger stood at the bed’s end. “Mine pleasure to behold thy greatness!”

“Cool?” Avaron said, her eyes jumping from the dancing flame to the masked woman. “Who are you?”

“Oh! Mine apologies.” The woman bowed, clutching the flame against her bosomy chest. “Mine name be Gwyneth; mine tongue speak for the Eternal Flame.”

She certainly had the airs of someone truly excited; Avaron half-expected glittering sparkles off of her. Ever leery, she nonetheless nodded. “Alright, what do you want?”

Gwyneth tried to speak, but the priest at the door cut in sharply. “That is quite enough. As you can see she is quite in health still, now it is time to leave.”

Hidden from their sight but not hers, Avaron saw Gwyneth gnashing her teeth. Then, her lips mouthed a word several times, one she pieced together as ‘Tonight’. Pulling away from the bed, Gwyneth let out a dissatisfied sound, but went back to the door. Everyone there filed out back into the connecting hall, only the knightly woman remaining for a moment. Their eyes met, but she had nothing to say save a disgusting scowl, and shut the door once more.

In the dead silence that followed, Avaron only stared bemusedly at where everyone had been.

_What?_

*~*

She jerked awake, the clack-clang-clank of metal parts moving all-too-loud in her ears. Avaron sat up from beneath the bed sheets, spying the metal door opening in the dim-darkness. A wrenching whine of the hinges filled the air, and from beyond the frame, a flickering light shined through. “Blessed heroine?” Gwyneth’s familiar voice asked uneasily.

“Hi?” Avaron asked uneasily. “What are you doing here?”

Gwyneth’s half-covered face peered around the door. “Come, quickly. Tis important, verily.”

Suspicious beyond measure, she nonetheless saw an opportunity to get out of jail. Hurrying out of bed, she folded back the bedsheets over her used pillows. At least, those who didn’t inspect the bed wouldn’t find out she was actually gone. Gwyneth showed no fear when Avaron approached the door, her demure lips even betraying a smile. “Why are you doing this?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Thy fate,” Gwyneth said, just as hushed. “Mine flame bid me see thee set upon thy path.”

_Did they really send a priestess for me?_ Avaron wondered with disbelief. Then again, it wouldn’t have been the strangest thing in her life thus far. Stepping out with Gwyneth, she saw the same dimly lit hallway, smooth-stone bricks and all. The priestess took the lead, her boots thumping and thumping against the carpet. Avaron hadn’t a clue where they were going or if the guards would appear, but she kept her mouth shut.

The stupidest thing to do in a breakout would be distracting the leader, after all.

Up one flight of stairs and then another; a central-staircase design, with each new floor leading to more ‘cells’. She counted at least four, although it went lower than the lever hers was on. When they reached the top floor, a great pair of iron doors awaited, glowing as they were with white symbols. Gwyneth slowly stepped up to it, and knocked on a smaller iron plate. “Tis me.”

The plate slid open, and what looked like a knight on the otherside. It shut just as quickly.

A groan of metal signaled one of the doors sliding open, just enough a person could slip through. Gwyneth did so, beckoning for Avaron to follow. A silvery-armored looking knight stood on the other side, and when they were both through, he pushed the door shut again.

“You made good time, but hurry,” he whispered.

“Thank thee, noble Fernad.”

“Flame guide you, Gwyneth,” Fernad returned, and seemed to take up his post again, sitting down at a nearby chair.

Avaron spared it any thought as Gwyneth hurried along through the hallway again. _I’m sensing a bit of a religious schism,_ she mused. What kind, however, remained elusive.

One hall after another; a storage room, then an empty dining hall of some kind. The final set of doors brought them outside, the light of a full moon casting the big courtyard in a pale light. Gwyneth cupped her hands together, hiding the flickering light of her flame fully. “We are nearly there,” she said, heading down a walking path toward one a great, tall wall. It seemed part of a castle wall or similar fortification to Avaron’s curious eyes.

A passage through the wall soon stretched before them, its great iron doors already ajar. Another knight sat by, barely looking up at them as they sped past in their hurried walk. _This can’t be the main gate._ _Why are we going … oh, a lake._

It made sense now, even more so as they stepped onto the docks themselves. To the left and right, a great array of docks lined up against the great wall, with a number of passages connecting them. Distant torches bobbed up and down, sturdy, armor-clad figures patrolling everywhere a guard could be. Except, interestingly, the section they were on. Gwyneth led the way down a dock that turned from stony-floor to wood, with a ramp leading up to the only ship still moored.

Avaron hadn’t a real comparison, but it had two decks and three masts. _A river trading ship? Maybe? I don’t smell salt on the wind._ _And we’re going onto that ship now …?_

They reached the empty deck, and hurrying through a cabin door, Avaron found herself moving into the bowels of the ship. It would be, at one final door, they both entered into a private room, with a hanging hammock of a bed, a bolted-to-the-floor table, and a chest of some kind. Gwyneth shut the door, sliding a bolt into place with a solid thunk. She let out a long, shaky breath of relief.

“Tis done, tis done,” she said, shaking her hands and flexing her fingers. The flame, free of her palms, danced across the tops of her hands, moving as a spider seeking its perch. “Ohh, mine heart cannot handle this rush.”

“What, never broke out of jail before?”

“No!” Gwyneth shot back with exasperation.

Avaron shot her a thumbs up. “Good job on your first time.”

“T-thanks.”

“So, why’d you do it?”

“Tis thy fate.”

“Lady, I’m not even three days on this world and I’m breaking out of jail. What fate are you talking about?”

“Let me, ehm, sit down,” Gwyneth asked first, already moving over to the hammock. It turned from bedding to chair in an instant, slacking underneath her weight. Her hands rested upon her knees, while her ever-present little flame sat in the air over her lap. “Tis the will of the goddesses, but thou wish for more.”

Shaking her head, Avaron made for the only other sitting-worthy surface, and hopped up onto the table. It creaked under her weight, but held up fine otherwise. “Let’s try with why we were summoned to this world.”

“Ah, that …” Gwyneth mumbled, sounding far more displeased. “Twas a scheme by the Church of the Everlasting Light.”

“For …”

“Divine heroines, blessed by the goddesses, appear throughout history. Most are summoned, as thee were, from other worlds. Normally, by the lands most in need.” Gwyneth’s mouth twisted into a scowl, and the flame in her lap took on an edged, serrated flicker. “But the Church sought more for itself; and so summoned heroines that were not needed. Not only that, but thirteen heroines! Tis unheard of!”

If these so-called heroines had great magical power or otherwise, Avaron could see how it’d be a bad situation. “So, they’re threatening the peace then, with all these heroines?”

“Thy insight is deep indeed. The Church has disturbed the delicate balance of the world, and thine ambitions threaten us all.”

Rubbing her eyes, Avaron let out a long, deflating sigh. “Alright. So what do you want from me?”

“To realize thy fate.”

“… You don’t actually know what that is, do you?”

Gwyneth rubbed her ankles together. “Tis not mine place to know. The flame guides me, and I follow.”

Faithful people always had a sort of inscrutability to them that, in her life, Avaron took to meaning _lying_. In the world she found herself in, however, faith may have been far more real than she felt comfortable acknowledging. Shrugging her shoulders, she sufficed for a simple nod. “Fine, then. Do you know why everyone was so uncomfortable with me? Unless all the heroines were thrown into jail, too.”

“No, only thou,” Gwyneth muttered, her visor-covered face looking away. Nervousness, or something else?

Avaron stared, unwavering. Gwyneth started wringing her hands together, the flame bouncing over them. “I will find out eventually,” she said evenly. “It’s up to you if you want to piss me off about it.”

_That_ got the priestess’ attention back, and she hurriedly shook her head. “No, no! Not at all. Tis, thou art a _tentradom_.”

“Which is … what, exactly?”

“The … the defiler of women? Ruiner of Wombs? Sire of Legions?” Gwyneth asked, even she herself rather uncertain. “A most rapacious monster whose hunger for young maidens has brought down many a lands?”

“I feel you’re making some of that up.”

Gwyneth shook her head, only in the way someone deadly serious could. “Tentradoms are from the olden times, and swelled mighty, almost swallowing the world. Now, few remain, broken beyond knowing, scarce able to survive.”

_Starting to understand my skills a little bit better here,_ Avaron thought, her mind itching at the implications. Scratching at her head, she half-shrugged a shoulder. “Okay. And if any of that is true, why are you here? Or breaking me out of jail, for that matter?”

“Thy divine nature begets itself. None more than thee are so blessed. The heroines that remain are weak, infantile. Thou are … different.”

Someone was dancing around something and, quite honestly, started to grate on Avaron’s nerves. “Yeah, I got that. _Why_ are you doing this?”

“Th-the flames guide me to do so …”

An even more unconvincing answer. “Do they guide you to hide from me too? Or is that just you?”

“W-what does thou want?!” Gwyneth shot back, fists balling up. “I hide nothing!”

“I’ve had all sorts of people lie, cheat, and hide from me, little girl,” Avaron shot back, her tone unerringly even by comparison. “I know when I’m being fucked with.”

No retort came, for Gwyneth sat on the bedding, red in her ivory-skinned face. Her lips twitched and teeth grit, but she remained where she was for a long few minutes. “T-tis not that I wish to lie,” she bit out each and every word. “But mine heart is not prepared.”

“If you keep it bottled up inside, it’ll only get worse. Unless this is something else entirely.”

“M-mine fate is tied to thee’s, is the … something.”

“… Oh?”

“I am to be thee’s.”

“To what?”

Gwyneth made a flustered noise, looking away from Avaron to the wooden wall. “Thy, ehm, to bear thy c-children …”

Avaron blinked, opened her mouth, then clicked it shut. Her hand made a little circular gesture, trying to connect the dots in her mind. “Sorry, let me just double check that. You rescued me so I could knock you up?”

Gwyneth nodded, her whole being uncomfortably tight and anxious. “If tho-thou wishes. Forgive mine humanness, paltry as it is.”

“I … what?” Avaron’s mouth moved faster than her brain, hardly able to process one idea after the other. Gwyneth jumped a little at the question, her fingers fidgeting together. “You rescued me, to knock you up?”

“N-not me, if thy finds it offensive!” Gwyneth hurriedly held up her hands in defeat.

Pushing her knuckles against her temple, Avaron found a measure of solace in the soothing pressure. She held up her other hand, and said, “Let’s just, put that aside for now. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“A-as thou wishes.”

“Where are we going now, on this mysterious ship of yours?”

“Fortune favoring us all, to the land of Ash.”

“… Ash, as in the stuff left over by fire?”

Gwyneth smiled, however demure it was. “Tis owned by the family of Ashmourn. Tis quite beautiful, or so I hear.”

“What do mean, ‘so you’re told’?”

The priestess reached up, and tapped on her visor over her eyes. “Mine eyes were lost when I was a babe.”

_I’d wondered but I doubted it would be so literal,_ Avaron thought with surprise and sheepishly rubbed the back of her white-haired head. “Forgive me for bringing it up.”

“Tis no trouble.”

_And I guess that magic fire of hers has something to do with how easily she gets around. Magical eyesight? I guess?_ Not that she would ask; it wasn’t that much of a stretch to imagine now. _But, if she doesn’t know what things look_ like _, then how does she see?_ Her younger self might’ve had an idea or two, but she was coming up dry. That, and losing half her sleep wasn’t helping at all. The adrenaline had long faded away, and in the calm of a ship’s sleeping creaks and groans, tiredness took its toll. Avaron wearily looked around the cabin room, but only the hammock Gwyneth sat in stood out.

Her gaze wearily dropped to the floor. It wasn’t _moldy dirty_ but being a ship, in probably medieval times, it wouldn’t be _clean_ either. Coughing into her hand, Avaron said, “Well, then. Is there another room for me to sleep in, or?”

“Eh? Ehm … no, just this one.”

“… Guess I’m sleeping on the floor then.”

Gwyneth shook her hands hurriedly. “Thou doesn’t need to!” she chirped, and stood up from the swinging hammock. “Let I do so instead!”

The idea rankled Avaron’s sensibilities. “No, that won’t do either. Can that hammock hold two people?”

“It should be able to?”

That lack of confidence didn’t help, but Avaron wasn’t going to argue. Dressed as they were, they awkwardly climbed into the hammock one after another. It bulged slightly, but the tight ropes remained unyielding. Such as it was, the two were forced to cuddle together, spooning one another in the curvature of the bedding. Content that they weren’t immediately going to fall out, Avaron spared no time in going slack and enjoying the reprieve sleep would bring.


	2. Happy On Your Knees

_Caring is the hardest kindness, because we always give a little bit of ourselves away._

*~*

Something smelled _delicious_. It pulled her awake in the way only food could with that _tantalizing_ temptation it brought. Taking one long, tasting inhale, Avaron found herself rather unable to pin the scent down exactly. The very first thing that came to mind was _cinnamon rolls_ , a hint of sweetness in a perfume of warm cinnamon and bread. But, an undercurrent of something else added a sharp contrast. Barbeque, but more the smoky aftermath than the actual meat itself. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it certainly felt sharp on the senses.

Blinking her blurry eyes awake, Avaron hardly saw anything in the prevalent darkness. What light there was, oddly enough, nestled down by her belly. Her head cocked to the side, she saw a dancing flame sputtering between her and another body, throbbing like the pulse of a heart. Instincts fired up faster than reasoning, and she jerked away—or tried to, finding herself constrained. Rocking back and forth, a dim groan broke the air with its sweet, feminine sound. Avaron stilled then, the rest of her mind catching up.

_Magic fire? Magic fire, right, okay,_ she thought, her racing heart calming down. That the flame brushed against her clothes so easily left her on edge, but it was what it was. _Forget coffee, that shit wakes you right up._

Was it even morning? She hadn’t a clue at all. Well, she got some sleep, but it wasn’t great. Avaron let out a long, suffering sigh, relaxing into the hammock again, half her-face buried in the thing. _Fine, whatever, not the first crappy sleep I’ve gotten._

That delectable scent remained, dancing up her nose with every long inhale she took. It almost calmed her nerves, but worse it left her on _edge_. A curious sort of nervousness in her bones, followed by a stuffy heat in her clothes. It wasn’t the hotness of stifling bedding, but something else—something terribly familiar she couldn’t name exactly. Growing ever more suspicious, Avaron lifted her head and looked around. No light under the door, no mysterious plate of food on the bolted table, nothing at all.

_What_ is _that?_

Laying her head down, she took another breath in, and the scent grew _stronger_. A shiver crept down her spine and her skin prickled with goosebumps. An honest shudder crept through her belly, and her thighs shook so hard she squeezed them together to stop it. Her heart followed after, thumping with a wakefulness it really shouldn’t of had. _Holy shit,_ Avaron thought, biting her lip. _Am I horny? Why am I horny?_

It’d been years since she had honest-to-anyone pussy wetting horniness. Her whole body sang with a need that felt almost alien despite its familiarity. Clutching a hand over her nose, she tried stifling out the smell, but it did little good at all. _I don’t understand, there’s nothing in here but—_

Her eyes crept down to the sleeping Gwyneth, her head resting on Avaron’s chest. _Oh._

_Ooooooh._

Everything the priestess told her yesterday came flooding back. A nervousness in her belly quickly outstripped her growing arousal, and she quickly opened up her info screen. It popped into existence, but not a hint of light reflecting on anything from it. Her eyes went up and down the menu, before she opted for the rather generic looking ‘profile’ option.

Her name, species, level, and various stats opened up. Hesitantly, she tried opening the species field, clicking it with her weary mind. A new screen popped open, split between a ‘description’ box and an ‘attributes and skills’ box.

_Well, there it is._

Avaron really hated hidden fields, she’d have to crawl the info screen later on. Her eyes, however, were busy reading the description field.

_[Divine servant, and the progenitor of all mortal life. It is the domain of tentradoms to make home and heart; to spread love and joy; to make the few into the many. Now few remain, and life struggles to prosper amidst evil greed],_ Avaron read in her mind, eyes squinting. _Who wrote this, exactly?_

She didn’t know about it at all, and so the theory that the info-screen was her own mind blew away like dust in the wind. Someone, somewhere, left her this knowledge. No other recourse available, she went down to the next info box.

_Hmm. ‘[Rapacious Breeder], enhances frequent and … copious breeding … oh._ Avaron squeezed her eyes shut, mouthing a few choice words. _Okay, no point in turning away from it. ‘[Mating Pheromones], enhances sexual aroma, stimulating potential partners. Can induce a breeding frenzy.’_

_Don’t like the sound of that! Next one~_

‘ _[Divine Nectar], cum and milk are nutritious and invigorating when consumed by others’. Oh, wonderful, just one more. ‘[Adaptive Physique], readily adapt to challenging physical stress to overcome it’. It’s the most normal sounding thing and I still don’t like it!_ Avaron wanted to laugh and cry, the sheer ridiculousness of the situation tickling her. Worst of all, she was still ‘level 1’. If she acquired new skills like any other RPG, what other horribly erotic skills would she get?

A movement startled her, closing the info screen as a sweet, feminine groan rumbled into her chest. The info screen shut swiftly, and Avaron looked down, for however good that did. Gwyneth half-twisted in the hammock, throwing an arm over the edge, while the rest of her angled up. The cinnamon-barbeque scent grew stronger, and Avaron’s heart refused to calm at all. _Oh, this isn’t good._

Gwyneth’s sweet little breathing had taken on a hotter, huffing and puffing. A blush stained her lower face, and she subconsciously licked her lips. The flame itself changed, contorting into a pulsating … heart? Avaron blinked disbelievingly. It became a heart alright, that stylized, pulsating heart she’d seen in text emoji. _You’re a treacherous thing, aren’t you?_ she wanted to say, eyeballing it.

Another groan, Gwyneth’s covered thighs rubbed together in a slow, grating motion. If Avaron had any doubts, they were all laid to rest. Not seeing much choice, Avaron started tapping Gwyneth on the shoulder. When that failed to work, she grabbed her shoulder and started shaking. “Hey, wake up,” she hissed.

“… Oh?” Gwyneth moaned, the word-half formed. “What is, mmm, what is …”

_Please just be morning sleepiness._

The priestess suddenly _stretched_ her whole body, half-pressing into Avaron with a long, sensual moaning noise. Avaron gulped nervously, the sound all too sweet in her ears. Gwyneth’s womanly weight against her proved almost as distracting as her distinctive aroma. A hand slapped into her face, the shock of it startling Avaron. “Hey!”

“Mm? Oh, oh! Forgive mine rudeness,” Gwyneth chirped, trying to sit up. In the swinging freedom of the hammock, however, her effort ended up with her coming to sit on top of Avaron outright. It didn’t escape either of their notices, especially how Gwyneth tightened her thighs around Avaron’s hips. “I am, unused to this!” she chirped, clutching her heart-shaped flame to her bosomy chest.

“I gathered,” Avaron grunted, teeth gritting. _Something_ inside her was _awfully happy_ at the position. A tightness she’d never experienced before became all too prominent in her abdomen, something that wanted to _come out_. An airy, hissing gasp escaped her lips, and she tried closing her thighs. “Oh, fuuuck,” she whined.

“W-what is wrong?” Gwyneth asked with worry.

_Am I seriously going to piss myself?!_ Avaron thought incredulously, slapping Gwyneth’s side. “Get up, quickly!”

The priestess did so, stepping off to the side as Avaron shot out of the hammock. Without any ceremony, she unbuckled her pants and ripped them—panties and all—down. The pressure all but became unbearable, but however relieving it was, she wasn’t exactly peeing? Avaron fell against the hammock, her legs bowling open and _it_ came out, splurting free of her nether lips in one long, relieving thrust out. All the pressure vanished, replaced by something new and _wriggling_ , like an arm that’d she’d slept on and only just got working again.

Avaron and Gwyneth stared at the arrow-headed tentacle, its pale, blue-veined flesh slick with juices. It twitched and throbbed, slapping around Avaron’s thighs with a mind almost entirely of its own. “W-what the fuck?” she chirped, staring at the appendage in bewilderment. Gwyneth, meanwhile, looked away, holding her hands up to her cheeks.

“Oh, forgive mine rudeness,” she whispered, voice tight.

_Goddesses or what, holy shit,_ Avaron thought, bug-eyed at her own tentacle. Throbbing, pulsating; like a clitoris at full mast, but her pussy felt so oddly _full_ in _reverse_. Hesitantly reaching out, she tried grasping the thing, the tightness of her own hand shooting through her in a bolt of lightning. Avaron pushed into the hammock, her hips reflexively jerking up, and the tentacle tightening with a toe-curling pleasure. A sharp, surprised gasp ripped out of her mouth, drawing Gwyneth’s attention.

“D-does thou require, attention?”

“Why, you offering?” Avaron bit out, her sarcasm cutting faster than she could catch it. Gwyneth nodded lightly, her flame brightening with its speedy, hearty thumping. Her little tongue swept out, rolling over her lips in a wettening lick, something Avaron didn’t miss at all. That mouth of hers seemed quite nice; her lips plump, but not overtly so, and her cheeks so smooth. She could, couldn’t she? Stuff her tentacle right into that priestess’ welcoming little ho—Avaron bit the inside of her cheek, letting out a grunt of pain as a delirious little shudder shot through her.

To her horror, Gwyneth stepped closer, that cinnamon-barbeque scent squeezing into every breath Avaron took. “Please, forgive mine unworthiness. Mine training for such is lacking, but …” She fell down onto her knees, hands still clutched in front of her in prayer. “Please, allow mine service? Thou needs relief.”

_Or I could try j-jerking it, I guess?_ Avaron considered with a sardonic smile. Her tight hand continued sliding up and down her bulging tentacle, feeling the tiny ribs and ridges it had. Firm, yet soft, easy to slide, and so _slick_. She weighed the thought on her mind, but her eyes went to Gwyneth, staring at her parted lips, slick with spittle. Oh, what an inviting sight it was to behold, her tentacle twisted upright as a long, hip-jerking pulse traveled through. “F-fuuuck,” she whined through her teeth. The _urge_ to thrust _and plunge_ sang in her mind, her hips almost painfully clenched with how she held back.

Gulping spit down, Avaron kicked off her pants, sitting more comfortably on the ‘edge’ of the hammock. Which, really, just turned into a rope-like chair with how it dipped. She spread her legs wide and open, brandishing her tentacle in front of Gwyneth. “F-fine. If you want to impress me, just, suck my—my tenty.”

A pleased exhale left Gwyneth and she nodded with an unreasonable amount of enthusiasm. “Verily! P-please, be easy, let mine mouth comfort thou.”

Two warm hands on the insides of her thighs and Avaron nearly clamped down on Gwyneth purely reflexively. Gripping the edges of the hammock, she clenched—teeth, belly, legs and all, trying to keep her unreal urges in check. Her little tenty, however, had a different idea, and it whipped around before landing on Gwyneth’s half-covered face with a wet _slap_. The shock of something cold and hard, combined with soft and warm, made Avaron twitch and squirm. Oh, her little tenty wasn’t so little at all. The girth alone might stuff poor Gwyneth’s mouth to the brim, and the arrow-head would easily get lodged in place, unable to get out. And the _length of it_ …

She might get stuck in that cute priestess’ throat at this rate. A needy whine hummed in her throat at the idea, her tenty brushing against Gwyneth’s face with a determined little wiggling. One way, than the other, it probed around with a minds of its own, slithering across Gwyneth like a predator on the hunt.

“O-oh, does thy, mm, ten-tenty enjoy mine?” Gwyneth asked shyly, confused if not endearing.

“Pl-please tell me you’ve done this before,” Avaron gasped out. “Because I don’t think it’ll be gentle.”

“W-well, mine—mmmphh!?!”

“Ooh mY FUCK!”

They both exclaimed at once, Avaron’s tenty heat-seeking every breath Gwyneth made until it found her mouth. It plunged in without waiting, bulging her lips around its girth to a tight, wet seal. Once the hot wetness inside enveloped it, the squirming thing calmed almost immediately, the flat of its bulbous arrow head brushing against Gwyneth’s tongue. The priestess’ surprised hum reverberated down its whole length, and Avaron’s eyes almost popped out. Head falling back behind, the whole world became just a single point: her big tenty and Gwyneth’s hot little mouth.

“Mph? Mumbem?!” Gwyneth’s half-formed words and moving lips pleasured Avaron’s tenty ever so strangely. The priestess started slapping Avaron’s thighs, seemingly trying to wrench her head away. The arrow-shaped head of her tenty wedged up against her teeth, and her jaw simply couldn’t open any more. Avaron hissed at the sudden, hard feeling of teeth and _pulling_ , her hips jerking in rhythm.

“S-stop that!” Avaron hissed, sparkling little stars popping into her vision. In sitting up, she saw Gwyneth’s panicked expression, and her panicky breathing. More than that, she couldn’t noticing how much of her tenty remained _out_ still. “You’re fine, just breathe through your nose,” she said, patting Gwyneth on her hooded head reassuringly. The priestess’ mouth shifted, her tongue slathering in curious flicks. Avaron’s eyes twitched, every little motion utterly _electric_ to feel. “Y-yes, just like that, nice and easy.”

Goodness, feeling every breath Gwyneth took with her tenty felt surreal. The priestess took long inhales, steadying to manageable rhythm. “Good girl,” Avaron breathed out, patting her head still. A pleased little hum answered back, traveling all the way up her tenty’s length. “Goo-ood giRL!” A flick of a tongue on her tenty’s head shocked her awake with a chirpy pitch, her feet kicking up in the air on pure reflex. Pressure followed with a gulping suck, her tenty sliding deeper into Gwyneth’s mouth all on its own. Mouth falling open in a silent noise, Avaron gripped Gwyneth’s head harder.

“Oh, oh fuck,” she mumbled. “Just be caaarefulll!”

Gwyneth’s enterprising hands grasped the length of her tenty firmly, blissfully tight and pleasurable all at once. Avaron’s eyes crossed, sucking, pulling, groping, and massaging all at once slammed into her. Her knees jerked every so often, legs worthlessly hanging there under the priestess’ awkward ministrations. A little too rough there, a too tight squeeze, and even some teething; _goodness_ it left her tongue stupid and drooling. She thought her clit was sensitive, until her squirming, thrusting beast of a tenty came into her life.

Avaron gurgled out a moan, tenty squirming in Gwyneth’s hands with a wild, bucking ferocity. She _felt it_ , that tiny, hot hole deeper in, begging her to plunge in. Yet an infuriating thing kept licking back, squeezing against her arrow-head with fervorous abandon. Her knees pulled inward, one twitching heave at a time, her belly tightening with such _anxious weight_. “Just like that, just like that,” she whispered, every inch of her tightening with a heart-pounding feeling. Even her breasts throbbed in tune to the sucking, hand-jerking fuck Gwyneth treated her to.

Oh, that cute little face of hers was gonna get _creamed_.

Avaron panted at the idea, just thinking about unloading all her cum into that pretty mouth. Goodness, she’d have to _choke down every shot_ or it’d just spill out! Oh, Gwyneth’s poor little tongue was gonna get blasted! Her tenty bulged, and a tiny, chirping moan leaving her parted lips, the dam in her belly bursting open. Avaron barely saw it so much as _felt_ her load travel down in one great, tenty-bulging package. Then another followed, and then another; they squeezed through Gwyneth’s inexperienced hands before pressing up against the O-shaped seal of her lips. A surprised sound turned into a girlish, gurgling squeal when the first one slipped in. The arrow-shaped head swelled, gaping open as a creamy, syrupy cum squirted out.

“Sw-swallow it!” Avaron squeezed out, her whole body shuddering with each hip-jerking, pumping thrust of cum she made. A throaty squelch followed, the sound of a deep, full gulp, all of Gwyneth’s mouth moving and sucking to swallow. The priestess gripped her tenty tighter, but nothing stopped the cum from pumping into her mouth. Avaron’s mind turned into a mushy, happy blank blur, punctuated by the satisfying relief of just letting everything out. In a strange sense, she became even more aware, almost cognizant of her tenty’s ministrations to deliver every creamy load it could.

Poor Gwyneth soon met her match. The moment she stopped gulping the cummy meal, it backed up in her mouth almost immediately. Her cheeks bulged, and her throat shut tightly with a primordial fear. That left only one place out—through the tight seal of her lips. Cum squirted out in thick, ropy strands, dribbling down her chin, then flowing in a sticky river. It slid into the wrappings of her neck, pooling and staining it before overflowing down to her collar, splashing atop her clothed breasts.

She tried speaking, half-hearted moaning hums as they were. Avaron, too far gone, paid no mind, watching through hazy eyes as the priestess started becoming coated in her cum. The hands on her tenty flew away, Gwyneth desperately trying to pool the cum or stop it with her fingers. All she did in the end made a sticky, stringy web of wet liquid love between her soaking chest and her hands. Her only saving grace was Avaron’s receding orgasm, sputtering to a few long, thin pulsing strands. The weight in her belly felt so airy and free now, and her tenty’s unyielding firmness devolved into a softer, more malleable form.

All on its own, its deflated arrow-head suddenly pulled from Gwyneth’s mouth. The whole tenty fell limp before Avaron’s legs, while the priestess lurched forward, a hand flying to her open lips spewing the trapped cum out. She stopped some of it, but a good bit splashed onto the already-staining ship floor. One shaky breath and long, deep gulp later, she let out a groaning exhale, her mouth free at last.

“Oh, oh my, oh my,” she rasped out, a hand to her throat, the other on her knee to help balance her. “Mine apologies, mine apologies,” Gwyneth wheezed before letting out an unsightly belch. Her hand slapped over her mouth, and a pitiful little moan squeezed out when that cum-slick palm met her lips. “Forgive me, please.”

“Mmm?” Avaron scowled, disliking that desperate tone in her orgasmic haze. “For what?”

“I—I couldn’t—” she burped again, lighter this time, her cum-splattered cheeks flushing a deeper red, “—couldn’t drink it all! Forgive me, please!”

For a hot, fleeting second, Avaron thought she looked quite lovely. The sight of cum all down her mouth, neck, and chest in a sticky, creamy web tickled some part of her brain. It certainly excited her, a fulfilling sense of something swelling in her chest at Gwyneth’s situation. Then the rest of her mind caught up, and she coughed into a hand. “It’s—you’re forgiven, do not worry.”

“Thank thee! Thank thee!” Gwyneth returned hurriedly, bowing up and down. Her hands, meanwhile, were quite busy gathering up the sticky, hot cream splattered on her top. To Avaron’s incredulous surprise, the priestess gathered handfuls of it, before hurriedly slurping it up. Try and try as she did, so visibly forcing herself to, Gwyneth gathered up what cum she could, drinking it down in heaving gulps.

“W-what are you doing?” Avaron couldn’t help but ask.

Gwyneth looked up, her mouth hotly sticky and wet with the last load she gulped down, her hands cupped with another. “I mustn’t waste thy gift! Mine failure to receive it is so—” she didn’t bother finishing, bringing her hands up and slurping again.

Avaron had half a mind to say something, but she let it go, content to just lay back in her hammock. Her spent tenty receded inward with a most _curious_ sensation of previously unknown muscles working. As simply as it had emerged, it retracted into her pussy, disappearing behind her deep blue, fleshy nether lips. So it came to be, that incessant, primal urge from earlier faded into a shimmering heat; not completely gone, but manageable. Gwyneth, meanwhile, seemed to have got up everything she could; the rest remain splattered across her frontside, dripping down.

Scratching the back of her head, Avaron looked away sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“The, uh, mess …”

Gwyneth shook her head. “No, mine thanks! Thy bounty is wonderful to receive!” she enthused, clapping her sticky hands together. “D-delicious, truly, beyond mine words to describe?”

“Uhh, alright,” Avaron returned, utterly beside herself at the idea. “It wasn’t, too, err, salty?”

“No! Savory, and a little sweet, too. Warm, and, ehm, filling, too.” Gwyneth looked away, her lower half squirming, knees squeezing together. “I—I quite enjoyed, receiving it.”

That didn’t sound right to her, nor really, did her cum look like, well, cum. The closest Avaron come think of was some kind of fluffy, mixed up cream cheese for a cake. Definitely more liquid-like, but it had the visual consistency of it. _I mean, I’m not human any more, so …_ She wasn’t sure what to make of it. If Gwyneth was happy with it, then she’d have to trust her. “Alright. Uhh, we should clean you up.” Avaron looked around the dim room. “Somehow.”

Avaron leaned forward, and found her pants had met an unfortunate end. A creamy, white sticky end.

“Mi-mine chest hath some spare clothes,” Gwyneth offered lamely, gesturing at the chest in the room. “F-forgive me for not saving thy clothing …”

Sucking in a breath, Avaron pushed herself up and off the Hammock. Gwyneth chirped, her face all-but pushing into Avaron’s exposed crotch. “Don’t worry about it; come on, up, up!” she said, pulling Gwyneth by the shoulders. The priestess uneasily stood, her knees shaking precariously. At full height, she let out a surprised gasp, falling into Avaron—cum-drenched, sticky chest and all. Avaron caught her on pure reflex, realizing all too late what happened.

Her eyes shut with a tired sigh, while Gwyneth hiccupped, her voice cracking with a sudden high pitch.

“Mine, mine apologies!” she whined out, squirming to be free of the safety hug.

“It’s fine,” Avaron said, feeling almost automatic about it. “Why are you so shaky?”

“Mine, uhm, tis nothing.”

“What did I say before?”

A mumbling, nonsense hum came out of Gwyneth then, and she even tried _hiding_ into Avaron’s chest. “There is, there is a fire in me,” she muttered, half-formed words Avaron struggled to make sense of.

“Is it your flame thing?”

Gwyneth shook her head. “No, in mine, ehm, belly, between mine legs.”

“Between, oh. Ohhh.”

“Is, is it bad?”

“Wait, what? No? It shouldn’t be?”

“Shouldn’t be?” Gwyneth asked, almost crying and hugging Avaron tighter. “Was thou displeased?”

“No? It’s … haven’t you been, err, horny before?”

“Horny? From mine head?”

“No!” Avaron snorted out, biting her cheek to stop from laughing. “Excited? Aroused?”

“Ehm, a few times? But this is quite, ehm, strong? Mine legs cannot stop shaking.”

A thought clicked into Avaron’s mind, one that suddenly provided a disturbing degree of clarity. _My species skills! She’s being affected by them, right?_ The more she considered it, the more sense it sounded. “Okay, it is that, but my nature is making it much, much stronger,” Avaron said, looking into Gwyneth’s visor-covered face.

“Th-thy nature?”

“To help excite you. Listen, change your clothes quickly, and go get some fresh air, okay? And, uh, see if you can get me breakfast.”

“Breakfast, mmm, yes. Okay!” Gwyneth said with an airy, almost absentminded enthusiasm.

Avaron wasn’t willing to wait and see what would happen, and all but helped strip and send out the priestess before anything else had a chance to happen.

*~*

A fist slammed onto the table, rattling the glass drinking cups with its force. “Absurd! You, Artor’s greatest knights, cannot find her?!” Grend, Lord-Commander of Artor all but shouted. The assembled sub-commanders before him had the dignity to refrain from shrinking back, however down cast their eyes became. “The greatest prison in the lands and she just disappears?!”

“… We’re still assessing how she might’ve escaped, Lord-Commander,” the man at the front said, clad in a half-plate attire adorned with flourishing red capes off his arms. “None of the magical wards thus far have revealed anything. Nor have our knights on duty revealed anything out of the ordinary.”

“And yet she remains missing. Find something, anything! We cannot allow a _tentradom_ of ANY creature under the gracious light to walk free from _Artor_!” Grend all but shouted, the firm rigidness of his aged voice resolute. All the knights snapped to attention and clapped a hand to their helmets, chiming a ‘yes, lord-commander’. Waving his hand in dismiss, they turned and left the room.

A suffering, terrible sigh left him, his graying beard trembling at the motion. “Forgive me, princess Arzha,” he said, glancing to his left. A woman sat beside him, dressed in a full plate armor of silvery color. A beautifully decorative cape of crimson color and gold threading hung off her shoulders, emblazoned as it was by the burning sword of Artor on the back.

Diamond-cut face peeled with a suspicious squint, her bright blue eyes peeked over at Grend, barely moving her head at all. “It is what it is, Lord-Commander. The fact no one has seen anything and the magics are undisturbed is most peculiar. If I didn’t know better, I would say we’re dealing with another country or the goddesses.”

“Yes, it’s looking like that, isn’t it?” Grend mused aloud before taking a sip from his cup. “All of it happening on the same day as the summoning … It is not my place to ask the will of the goddesses. The spies of mortal men, however, I would have words with.”

“Be that as it may,” Arzha said, pushing away from the thick desk and standing up. “I must have an answer to the nobility for the lockdown. I can buy another day, perhaps two, before the gates must be opened again. Make the most of what you can.”

Grend stood when she did, and bowed as she made to leave the room. “Thank you, your highness. I shall keep you appraised of the situation.”

“Very good.”

And so, she left the meeting room, coming into a long, stretching hall in the royal castle. Outside awaited another knight, clad in armor similar to her, and a bit shorter in stature. The brown-colored, bowl haired, and green-eyed Haleen snapped to attention with a salute, sharply attentive despite her cutely girlish face. Without a word, she fell in behind Arzha, close at hand and matching each step. “What is the word, my lady?” she asked, her incredibly serious, deep voice unbefitting of her demeanor.

“She’s still missing.”

“That is unfortunate.”

“Yes,” Arzha remarked dryly. She blew a strand of her V-shaped, platinum blonde bangs out of her eyes, before having to push behind her ear. “In truth, I am not too surprised. Have you found that Flame priestess yet?”

“No, my lady. The lack of the city guard has certainly made it difficult.”

“It is fine; that, in itself, is an answer.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow?”

“The Church has ever kept an eye on other faiths,” Arzha said, and the two turned a corner, heading up into a spiral staircase. “If they have also lost track of her, then I suspect she has a hand in our missing tentradom heroine.”

“You … don’t believe she might be a heroine, your highness?”

“The ritual proved true; the goddesses saw fit to give her to us. Perhaps I’m the only one who knows why.”

Haleen hummed distastefully. “I must remind you, princess, that the Rite’s reading is not binding.”

“And yet the divine ordained it so. Who am I to defy them?” Arzha asked airily, her voice reserved and inscrutable. Her gloved hand moved to her belly, armored and protected as it was. _A tentradom, though … I see now, why the Rite’s divination spoke of a ‘thousand arms’ for my destined love._ It was not hers to be misled; the goddesses must intend something to orchestrate such a fate. Yet, to one of such great danger? A destroyer of women, turning them into slack jawed, glassy-eyed moaning sluts, heavy with babies for the rest of their lives?

Were she not summoned through the heroine ritual, Arzha would doubtlessly kill such a being.

Now, however, she wasn’t certain.

It was all but an arranged marriage, really. The goddesses have sent her fated suitor; it fell to her to commit the interview.

Her hand moved away, her face creasing in annoyance. _Goodness, explaining that to the kingdom. I might as well start a revolution while I’m at it._ Shaking her head, she pushed such sticky thoughts away. “Haleen, I have my orders for the sisterhood.”

“Yes, your highness!”

They reached the top of the stairs, one-corner and a short walk away from the main thoroughfare. There would be too many ears and eyes then, and so now was the time. “Arrange for a campaign, perhaps one or two months. We will be traveling north.”

“… North, your highness?”

“Consider it a hunch, but I believe I know where our missing tentradom is going.”


	3. The Land of Ash

_Everyone, and everything, want something. Selfishness can be a virtue, with the right intentions._

*~*

Stepping onto the ship’s deck, Avaron still felt _itchy_. Gwyneth’s set of spare robes and wrappings helped to hide her, but their size differences was a bit of a problem. The robe tightly squeezed against her, and she used up most of the wrappings covering her porcelain flesh it couldn’t hide. Poor Gwyneth herself had to wear her previously _sullied_ robes, but they managed to sneak in a bucket and some river water to clean them. Trying to put that thought of mind, Avaron headed over to the guard rail, Gwyneth following closely beside her.

“Please, might we duel again?” the priestess asked, oozing competitive spirit, her hands pumped up close to her chest. The tiny, ever-present flame currently on her bosom flared at her words. “Mine poker skill sharpens every fight!”

“Sure, I don’t mind,” Avaron said with a half-hearted shrug. “When I have time to remember some of the other rules, there’s a lot more to do.”

“Verily? Wonderful!”

Thankfully Gwyneth had a deck of playing cards for their whole day locked in the cabin. The symbols took some learning, but they followed a basic one-to-fifteen system, so it wasn’t that hard to translate what rules she knew. Casting her gaze to the river embankment further ahead, she spied a rather sizable village—town?—coming up. “Do you, uh, know what that is?” she asked, rather uncertain how much Gwyneth actually knew.

“Mm, the village of Farlake. This river winds north, before coming down east. Tis the last stop one has before setting out to the land of Ash.”

“Is it, err, far?”

“A few weeks by foot.”

A terrified tremor shook down Avaron’s backside. “Oh, hiking.”

“What is wrong?”

“I’m, erm, not so good for long walks.”

“Really?”

“I never had to go around too much before. Sort of … one of my big regrets.”

“Tis no trouble, we shan’t have much trouble on the way.”

_It’s more like I’m afraid of my legs giving out,_ Avaron wanted to say.

The calls of sailors and thump of feet on deck soon rocked the air. In time they would dock and disembark, and Gwyneth would buy all their supplies and goods. Avaron in turn became thankful at her rather expedient work. The sun hadn’t reached noon yet by the time they set out, heading down a long, winding dirt path. Patches of grass, rock, and debris dotted it; overgrown, but not entirely useless yet. Hefting the straps on her backpack, Avaron took in a breath, tasting the fresh smell of wilderness grass, pine, and flowers.

Really, really smelled them.

The freshness in age; the underlying layer of rot from dying flora. Tiny, sharp, prickly smells, her mind telling they were insects. Avaron snorted, but her next breath just brought it all back. Her snorting turned into coughing, and Gwyneth turned around to help pat her back.

“Art thou fine?”

“Ye-yeah, I think,” Avaron wheezed. “Good, fucking tits. My nose and this world don’t get along. One breath is fine, then the nex—” a ripping, nasty sneeze tore out of her, one that almost pulled her back. She doubled over, bracing on her knees. “This sucks!”

Little by little, she got used to it somewhat, but their walking certainly didn’t go far with a break every five minutes. Avaron’s pale white face stained in a dark blue blush, spilling across her nose and cheeks with a flowery bloom. Gwyneth, all the while, turned out to be a rather sympathetic soul. In the late afternoon, they reached the edge of the pine forest, filled with tall trees and thick enough one couldn’t see very far. Sat upon a big, exposed root, Avaron dropped her backpack between her legs, all slouching forward with a miserable sniffle.

Gwyneth sat beside her, a bit more elegantly. “Would thou, ehm, like something to eat?”

“S-sure,” Avaron returned, her voice stuffy even to her own ears.

Moving with a surprising fluidity, Gwyneth unpacked part of her backpack. From it emerged a loaf of black-colored bread, and a cloth wrapping around a suspicious looking cheese wedge. She pulled out a small knife, and balancing it all on her lap, broke the bread into more hand-friendly pieces. Then, unfurling the cloth and revealing a white, yellow tinged piece of cheese, she splayed open her hands with invitation. “Tis a lucky offering a breadmaker did give mine visit. Thou might find it quite tasty!”

Avaron tentatively took a piece and spread some cheese onto it, much to Gwyneth’s confused humming. “What?”

“Thou put the cheese on thine bread?”

“… Why not?”

“Tis strange.”

Avaron narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Now you’re making fun of me.”

“Am not,” Gwyneth cut back, a little _too_ quickly. The priestess picked up her a piece of bread and took a bite out of it.

In turn, Avaron took her own bite, finding it somewhat chewable. The cheese added a mild, pungent sort of flavor, but tasted utterly unremarkable. The bread itself certainly wasn’t _soft_ , but it wasn’t stale, either. The whole of seemed rather flat—like a vital ingredient had been forgotten. _This takes me back,_ she mused with a rueful, mouth-filled chuckle. _What was it? The yeast, wasn’t it?_

“What amuses thee?”

“Mm. It reminds me, is all.”

“Of what?”

“When I was younger, trying to make bread on my own. It came out like this, totally flat tasting.”

“Tis good bread?” Gwyneth retorted, despite sounding unsure herself.

Avaron waved it off. “It’s fine. I don’t think people have taken off using yeast yet.”

“What is yeast?”

“It’s an ingredient you add in to the dough. You, uhh, mix it in then let the dough sit, and it starts to rise up.” Avaron tried gesturing with her hands, but one holding a piece of bread made it rather useless. “Then you bake it, and soft, fluffy bread comes out later.”

“Thou were a breadmaker?”

“Oh, no, not at all. I tried it when I was younger … unfortunately, I’m quite the bad cook.”

“Verily? I do not mind cooking for thee.”

“… Thanks,” Avaron offered on reflex, rather uncertain how to take that directness of Gwyneth’s.

“Tis mine pleasure to serve.”

She was rather thankful right then that her allergies all but made her nose useless. If she picked up Gwyneth’s enticing scent again, her horniness would kick in with record speed. A small blessing, now that Avaron thought on the matter. “Do you, erm, always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Serve. That little flame on your chest, that is.”

Gwyneth held a hand to her chest, the tips of her fingers touching the base of the flickering flame. It wobbled, but ever remain as it was, seemingly unbothered by the wind at all. “Mm, verily. The Flame has always guided mine life, and I serve dutifully.”

“And now you want to serve me?”

“The Flame bids it, and I shall.” Gwyneth took another bite of bread before helping herself to a little chunk of cheese directly. “How ever thee desires mine services, thou need only say it.”

“… I feel a bit mean about it,” Avaron said lamely, wiping her mouth.

“Why?”

“You seem like a good person. Just, ordering you around is kind of …” she trailed off, face curling distastefully. It didn’t escape her notice how, at her words, Gwyneth’s flame flickered, a phantom of a heart shape appearing for a moment.

“Truly, thou art noble,” Gwyneth said airily, her voice a little high pitched. “Think nothing of thy requests. I live to serve thee, however thou desires.” Her implications were hardly subtle, and Avaron swallowed another bite nervously. “Surely thy virility will require such attention?”

Avaron damn near bit her tongue off going for another bite. Smacking her lips and doing a quick mental reset, she asked, “What?”

Gwyneth scooted closer on seating, bringing their hips firmly into contact. Their touching legs, too, came to rest against each other, with the priestess’ chasing Avaron’s when she moved on reflex. “Admittedly, mine knowledge of tentradoms is lacking. Thy needs are, frequent, are they not?”

_All signs point toward ‘yes’_ , Avaron thought sardonically, the tight weight in her belly all too hard to ignore. After she blasted the priestess in cum last time, she felt lighter than a feather for the whole day. Then the next morning the tension had started again. If she hadn’t stuffed her own panties on her face to block out the scent, she might’ve endangered Gwyneth’s clothes that day. A hand on her knee drew her back to reality, its light weight almost crushing to feel. “Y-yes, but you needn’t worry.”

“I worry not,” Gwyneth affirmed with a nod. “Please, speak when thou needs it. I will relieve thee anytime.”

Her poor mind fried at the idea, sizzling further from the sweet, enticing image of Gwyneth on her knees again. That hot little mouth of hers yawning open, tongue out in a welcoming guide of her tentacle. Avaron almost forgot her stuffy nose with how _incessantly tight_ her stomach churned, warming up to the idea _alarmingly_ quickly. Finishing off her food, Avaron stood up hurriedly with a smile. “I’ll keep it in mind! Thanks for lunch, we should get a move on, right? Don’t want to be out in the open?”

Gwyneth seemed taken aback, but nodded at her words. “Verily, tis prudent to keep going.”

*~*

For how much Avaron hated walking, the burning pain in her thighs and glutes really did take her mind off everything else. A sort of singular, narrow minded escape from her nose and her own lewd mind. _Fuck my life, I cannot stop thinking about her mouth,_ Avaron griped to herself. _Am I twenty again or something?_ Sure she’d been turned into some kind of sex monster, but she’d be able to control that, right? A woman of her age, experience, and pedigree just wouldn’t start humping the nearest sopping wet hole she found.

Worse, she wasn’t at all certain how long she could go on before _needing_ relief. Her belly grew ever more incessant, almost cramping with a rushing, hot flush through her whole body. If Avaron didn’t know better she’d think it period cramps, but the near constant horniness said otherwise. They’d gotten two days into the unending pine forest, which was around three or four days since the last _relief_. If she couldn’t even get to a week, her prospects looked dim indeed.

At least the air cleared up more and more; she could breathe in a clean lungful every so often. Stepping over a fallen branch, she kept behind Gwyneth, who always had a certain sense of where to go. “Soo, uhh, right. The Ashmourn family controls the land of Ash, hence the name. But why do the non-humans congregate there?”

“Tis oft called the land of demons by many humans. In the last war, many lands were burned to the bone, human and monja alike. The kingdom of Artor is supreme among human lands, the most prosperous one to rebuild after. The land of Ash is not so well by comparison, but many monja have resettled there to build again.”

“Calling it the land of Ash is a bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

“Tis the land of the Ashmourn,” Gwyneth said, a simplistic factuality to her voice.

“Fair enough. Are you really sure other monja are going to be accepting of me?”

“Ehm …”

Oh, she didn’t like that.

“Thy nature of a divine heroine will do much to endear thee to the people.”

“What your saying is, expect them to kick my ass.”

“No, no! Not—really?”

Avaron sighed. _It’s not like I can fault them; my … kind’s, reputation seems a little deserved._ It wasn’t as if she was unfamiliar a glass ceiling or people treating her differently. Par for the course, really; being in a world of happy-go-lucky sword wielding maniacs, definitely put a spin on it. _Why am I even here? Seriously, goddess? Hello? How am I supposed to help like this?_

Wait, that gave her an idea. “Say, Gwyneth …”

“Yes?”

“How does one go communing with the goddesses?”

“I’m … unfamiliar, with how others do so exactly. Offerings at an appropriate shrine may serve to entice their attention, however.”

“Okay … how do I get that flame of yours to offer some guidance then?”

“Oh! I shall commune if thou needs it.”

“Maybe? I figure I should learn myself at some point.”

“I shall look into it when we reach the city.”

“City?”

“Tis Shadowpeak, capital city of the Ashmourn family. Twas built in the far Silvervein Mountains.”

“I have a feeling it will take us a while to get there.”

“Only until we find a trade caravan. Tis a village a week’s journey once we break from the forest.”

A few more days through a forest, then a week to a village that may or may not have a trade caravan. Avaron could _feel_ herself sweating at the idea. She might really have to take Gwyneth up on her offer, for better or worse. Trying to push that thought from her mind, she focused on walking.

And so, one more day later, they broke from the pine forest to a field of tall, wild grass and wheat. A gentle wind left it swaying in hypnotizing waves of green and yellow across the small, rolling hills before them. Avaron even spotted some wild flowers, be they in the sunny yellow, blues, and whites, clumped together in fluffy clusters across the fields. Gwyneth stopped ahead in their trek and turned around, opening her arms up wide. “I welcome thee, to the land of Ash! Or, tis border, rather.”

“… Huh. It’s beautiful.”

“Tis?” Gwyneth asked with a cock of her head, and turned around. “The grass is most comfortable to rest on.”

“Well, I’ll look forward to that then.”

“Mm! Verily,” Gwyneth chirped out with a surprising happiness. Avaron couldn’t help looking at her back suspiciously, but decided to let that idea rest.

They continued on, and as the sun slid past mid-day, Avaron saw a most peculiar sight. Seven galloping, brown and silver figures out in the distance. “Who are they?” she asked, earning a surprisingly sharp turn of Gwyneth’s head.

“You see someone?”

“Seven people on horses, by the count of it,” Avaron said, squinting at the sight. “They’re, uhh, heading this way?”

“Get down!” Gwyneth barked suddenly, and Avaron went down before her brain even caught up. Crouched low to the ground, the tall-grass around them all but enveloped them in a shifting wall. “Can thou see how they dress?”

“Errr … something silver, and red. It looks like plate armor?” Gwyneth’s teeth grit, her face contorting unpleasantly enough to worry Avaron. “Why, what is that?”

“Knights of Artor, most likely.”

“What should we do?”

“Stay low and hope they pass by.”

Oh, to be in danger! It didn’t feel all that different to her, a fact that rather disconcerted Avaron. She all-but-sat in her crouch, feeling her muscles strain more from the awkward position than imminent danger. Then again, it reminded her in its own way of a street fight she’d been in once. No one really knows what’s up until some jackass pulls out a knife in a surprise move. Feeling a little more uneasy, she asked, “Can we fight them? Or, out run?”

Gwyneth shook her head. “Mine skill is great, but seven knights is too much. Horses will out run us.”

“Ehh, why are they here?” Avaron more complained under her breath than asked.

“Patrolling, mayhaps.”

The knights continued to get closer.

“Looks like their patrol is going to take them straight into us.”

“Tch. Let us try sneaking away, then.”

All but crawling on all-fours, the two of them awkwardly shuffled onward, Avaron’s occasional checking guiding them. To her growing concern, the band of knights soon broke apart, seven of them spreading far and wide. As best she could see, there wouldn’t be any way to sneak by them at all. She kept that tidbit to herself, and so they continued on. The clopping of hooves against dirt soon reached her ears, and the knightly woman came into much clearer focus. They huddled down into the grass, all but flattening themselves to the dirt.

The rest was up to luck.

Avaron found a small measure in comfort she couldn’t scent the dirt all that well. Anxiety built in her gut, her hands and feet tingling, and a curious exhaustion from all the awkward movement settled onto her. More than anything else, Avaron just felt _tired_ , she really didn’t have the fortitude to keep up something so stressful. _Goodness if I survive this I’m exercising more. Ohh, don’t cramp on me now leg._

The clopping of hooves came _distressingly close_.

“You two! In the bushes!” called out a woman, and a sinking dread punched Avaron straight in the gut. Neither of them moved at the call out. “Cease this dirt lickery and get up!”

“… tis seems we are found,” Gwyneth muttered dryly.

“What should we do?”

“Negotiate.” Gwyneth rose up first, coming to her knees. “Thou aren’t a bandit?”

“Nay, I am ser Saryl of Artor. Who are you?”

At Gwyneth’s prompting, Avaron stood up with her, and brushed off her frontside. She pointedly kept her hood down, not seeing the knight or letting her own face be seen. “Alright so I thought they were bandits,” she said to Gwyneth immediately. “Who else would be out here?”

_For the love of our lives please pick up on the cue._

“Who, indeed? I am Gwyneth, a priestess of the Eternal Flame. Of what business doth thou need of us?”

_Why did you give her your name?!_ Avaron wanted to scream and throttle the priestess right then and there.

“We seek a dangerous creature, supposed to be running through these fields toward the north. Have you seen anything at all?”

They both shook their heads and Gwyneth said, “Nay, thou art the first we’ve seen.”

“Strange indeed. You are headed north?”

“To reach Greenshill village on our pilgrimage.”

“Mm, best be safe about it then. It is a long journey on foot and there’s no telling what is out here.”

“Thank thee kindly.”

“Fair travels, pilgrims!” Saryl said, and kicking her heels, set off with her horse.

Gwyneth and Avaron looked at each other when she was far enough away. “Tis good fortune for us?” the priestess said, sounding a little disbelieving herself.

“Let’s just, get a move on then,” Avaron said with a deflating sigh. The other knights, fanning out across the fields as they were, headed away from them. Avaron couldn’t believe what she saw, but there it was.

And so, they hurried on their walk, moving with a certain purpose to get away from the roaming knights.

*~*

With the sun falling to evening, the six roaming knights returned, and Arzha regarded their solemn faces grimly. Huddled in a circle with their horses, a few more lingered behind, laden with supplies. “Judging by all your faces, you didn’t find anything.”

“No, my lady.”

“Nothing but grass, my lady.”

And so forth answered back, until Saryl remarked on, “Nothing but two pilgrims.”

“… Pilgrims?” Arzha asked, her great attention turning upon the most _comely_ of her Sisterhood knights. Saryl was upstanding to a fault, and the fair-faced, farm girl-like knight sat up straighter at her piercing gaze.

“Yes, my lady. Just two Eternal Flame pilgrims heading to Greenshill village. I ran into them around noon.”

“… What were their names?”

Saryl’s round, amber eyes shrank at Arzha’s frigid tone, her fluffy and messy deep, sea-green hair doing nothing to hide her from it. “Ehm, one was called Gwyneth. I didn’t get the other’s.”

Arzha closed her eyes and let out a long, controlled sigh. “That was one of the culprits, Saryl. Gwyneth of the Eternal Flame.”

“R-really?”

“It was in the meeting. You will receive a stern spanking when we return to the capital for forgetting. Go and tend the supplies.”

Saryl jolted in her saddle, the princess’ words striking her as lightning might. Her downcast eyes and solemn nod answered what her quivering lips couldn’t say. Kicking her leg, she turned around and went to guard the supply-laden horses.

“You five, with me. We’ll fan out again in the northward direction. I doubt they have gotten far enough to escape Haleen’s detection.”

“Yes, my lady!” the five remaining knights chimed, and turned around. Together with the princess, they rode to the north, while Saryl sadly trotted far behind.

Arzha, bouncing up and down with her white-haired horse, stared at the dimming horizon narrowly. The hour of apprehending the tentradom came closer, and she was still nowhere near an appropriate answer. There wasn’t a way to keep her under control and still be in Artor, any number of her rivals would find out eventually. On the other hand, she couldn’t exercise the power needed to keep a tentradom in check anywhere else.

Perhaps, in the end, it came back to her father’s advice on the eccentricities of diplomacy. _Force is the easiest solution, but if it fails, try friendship, hm?_ She wrinkled her nose at the thought. Friendship meant trusting an uncertain future, and she despised uncertainty. The idea lingered in her mind all throughout the ride, until Haleen came careening toward her.

“I found something,” she said simply, a magical golden and white light surrounding her eyes. “Maybe a campfire about ten minutes ahead.”

“Good. Tighten up the formation just in case.”

Twilight crept upon them, and the chill of the evening loomed not far behind. If her wayward destined love had built a fire, it’d save her the trouble of making one. In mere minutes, the Sisterhood knights pulled in around her, marching as a proper military unit. The sight of a flickering flame amongst the billowing grass stood out almost _painfully_. Such was the problem of encamping in a field—hardly any cover whatsoever. Two figures became apparent when they drew closer, sitting around the small campfire between them.

Arzha and Haleen drew up next to the campsite, while the other four flanked in a circular enclosure. Two familiar faces greeted her, both equally shocked to see her given their slack-jawed, dumb looks. “Well well well. My prized guest and who else but you, Gwyneth.”

“T-tis good see thee again, thy highness.”

Arzha’s frosty cold eyes slid from Gwyneth to Avaron, who looked at Gwyneth in shock.

“She’s royalty?”

“I am the first princess of Artor,” Arzha cut in pointedly, drawing Avaron’s attention. “You may call me Arzha.”

“Oh, well, Gwyneth you know, and I’m Avaron.”

“Avaron …” Arzha said, testing the word in her mouth. A fitting name; it sounded proper at least. “We did not have a proper chance to meet, scrutinizing as the Church ever is.”

“We didn’t no. Forgive me for being improper or anything, but are you all going to kill us or something? You know, strong beautiful women in armor, and big swords on horses …” Avaron made a vague gesture at the encirclement.

“Hm, no. Haleen, go retrieve Saryl.”

“Yes, my lady.”

With her heading off, Arzha held up a hand, gesturing to dismount. She and her remaining knights hopped off their horses, and Arzha commanded, “Magna, see the horses tied off.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Gwyneth and Avaron both stood up at her approach, neither making any undo motions. It came to be that Arzha stood before Avaron, staring down the smaller woman-creature with an unwavering, even stare. In spite of her untidy state, she was no different from when she saw her in the prison. Gloved hands folded over her chest, she squinted, and Avaron continued to meet her stare. _Funny,_ she thought. _No one dares to meet my gaze and yet here she is._

It made the back of her neck feel quite itchy for some reason.

“Is there something you want?” Avaron asked wearily.

“… I am in need of a campfire this fair evening. I trust you do not mind.”

Avaron’s liquid blue eyes blinked, a flicker of confusion betraying her. “Uh, sure, I don’t mind.”

“Good.” Arzha turned to her other knights, standing at attention as they were. “We’re making camp here tonight with them. Setup when Saryl and Haleen return.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Satisfied for the moment, Arzha went and sat on the thickest clump of grass she could find nearby. Neatly folding her legs to the side, she went about taking off her plate armor herself, starting with the gloves. The breastplate and faulds could come off later. The process wasn’t complicated but it always took time going on, coming off, and the such. In the interim, the horses were secured nearby, and the Snowflake knights began winding down themselves. Their two errant hosts, meanwhile, sat quite comfortably together.

Too comfortably.

Arzha’s eyes narrowed at the sight. _Being a tentradom … I wonder._

Would even a priestess of the Eternal Flame succumb to Avaron’s wiles? If she had, there wasn’t much of a hint. Magna’s approach caught her attention, and the knight bowed politely.

“Shall I help you, my lady?”

“Mm, yes.”

By the end of it, she was left in her silken white underclothes, shirt and pants as they were. The plate armor and its padded layers were set aside neatly along with the other knights’ doffed armor pieces. Arzha fluffed up her shirt, airing out the hot stuffiness she’d endured all day. A quick rub to her voluminous breasts left them pleasantly tingling and refreshed from the confining suffering of plate armor. Feeling far livelier, she joined Gwyneth and Avaron by the fire, and the two women jumped at her sudden presence.

Or perhaps it was her sitting next to Avaron; it mattered not.

Off nearby, Haleen and Saryl looked to be arriving, and the others went to help unpack for the evening.

“I hope you won’t mind me being direct,” Avaron said suddenly, and Arzha spared her a discerning gaze.

“It would depend on what.”

“… Mostly why you’re here, quite obviously chasing us. Or me.”

_Why, indeed._ Arzha rubbed her neck, stretching the slight kink threatening to form. “A problem I have given much thought to. I trust you have little awareness of the grander situation.”

“If it’s about the thirteen heroines, kind of, but not really.”

Arzha spared a dry stare at Gwyneth, who looked away bashfully. “The summoning of the heroines was an unexpected move by the Church of the Everlasting Light. Unfortunately, while my family is still gobsmacked, the Church is consolidating its power alarmingly fast.”

“Are they intending to rebel? No, more like dispose, isn’t it?” Avaron asked as much as mused aloud.

_Oh, is she educated?_ The thought oddly uplifted her spirits about the matter. Arzha nodded once. “It is likely. With other nations aboard now turning toward us enmasse, we will have no allies and great demands being made. If the Church does not surrender the heroines to rebalance the situation, war will be inevitable.”

“And with how cordial you’re being, I take it you want my help?”

Arzha couldn’t help cracking a tiny, tiny smirk. “Funny. You are the unpredictable part in all of this, after all.”

“… How so?”

“A tentradom from beyond our world, blessed by the goddesses. A heroine can turn a battle that might win a war, but you—you could fight entire wars by yourself, couldn’t you?” Arzha asked lightly, gazing at Avaron’s inscrutable face. Unlike so many others, few gives betrayed her thoughts, or even her mood. _How capable; a trait of tentradoms, or her?_

“Perhaps, but it remains to be seen if I want to be bothered at all.”

“One cannot ignore the world, no matter how they try,” Arzha remarked, the acid in her own words surprising her. She made a show of giving a small smile. “What will you do, then?”

Avaron looked up toward the darkening sky, staring up for a solid minute. “Fight for the cause I can live with, I guess.”

Arzha blinked at the succinct answer. “Apt, in its own way.”

“I suppose then,” Avaron said, head tilting toward Arzha, “you want me to be your ally?”

“I’ve no interest in making an enemy for no reason,” Arzha said simply. “Consider my escort of you toward Greenshill as a gesture of goodwill.”

“It seems a bit much, but I won’t turn it down.”

The Snowflake knights had finished unpacking pots and pans, as well as their preserved supplies. The fire was appropriated into a cooking station, all the women cleaning up the space for better sitting and serving. Arzha found a few of her knights sitting close by, namely Haleen and Saryl. The former eyed Avaron and Gwyneth suspiciously, while Saryl looked disbelieving.

“Yo-you are a tentradom?” Saryl sputtered, poking at Avaron disbelievingly. In turn, the other woman grinned and rubbed the back of her hood-covered head.

“Not too surprising, I hope.”

“It truly is! I thought you would be, bigger, and fleshy, and lots of arms.”

“… The other ones might be, but not me. You know, being different.”

“Befitting of one summoned by the goddesses,” Saryl said, folding her arms with an understanding nod.

“Sure.”

Something about that dubious agreement tickled Arzha, but she had nothing more to go on. Magna and Elseh, working the cooking as they were, began handing out cups and sturdy dinner plates. Elseh soon followed with a tea pot and their provisional supply of tea for the evening. The honeyed aroma welcomingly wafted beneath Arzha’s nose when she took a dainty little sniff. One long, polite sip later, and the sweet liquid warmth spread all the way down her throat.

It didn’t escape her notice that her two unwitting hosts went deprived. “Elseh, serve them as well,” Arzha commanded strictly before taking another sip.

“Y-yes, my lady.”

It’d be improper otherwise, something she thought her knights already knew. Arzha sighed in her mind, dreadfully thinking of another full course of manner treatment for them all. Then again, it might be the last time in a long while they’d all be together. _An opportunity to refamiliarize myself with all their exquisite bodies, mmm_.

A rattle-snap of playing cards caught her attention, and she found Avaron and Gwyneth sitting to start dealing. Saryl suddenly seemed quite interested, scooting around Arzha to get closer to them.

“Can I play?”

“Do not bother them, Saryl,” Haleen called out suddenly.

“It’s, uh, fine.”

“Might I play as well?” Elseh asked over her fire tending.

“… Sure. If it’s going to be three or more, then Poker might be the best game to play.”

Arzha’s ears perked at the unfamiliar name.

“Poker? What is that?” Saryl asked.

“Okay, I’m going to need some space here. Does anyone have a bag of coins?”

A curious sight unfolded with Avaron directing the three other women. Sitting in the center, she had the other three sit in front of her in a half-circle. Saryl handed over a bag of coin, that Avaron then spilled out onto her lap. Rubbing her hands together, she started counting, and then dolling out stacks of coins to each of the other players.

“For simplicity’s sake, every coin is worth 10 points, no more, no less.”

Gwyneth seemed quite eager to receive hers, neatly stacking them in front of her folded knees. Saryl and Elseh did much the same, all of them having around fifty coins in total. The excess was kept beside Avaron. Coins issued, she then shuffled her deck of brown playing cards, then started issuing them out: two cards per player, face down in front of them. “Poker as a game has a lot of different rule sets. This one will be _Texas Hold ‘Em_. So you each have your own two cards, keep those private to yourself.”

The players picked them up and looked.

“Now, this part is a little tricky. In this game, I am the dealer; I issue cards and handle rules. To the left of the dealer—” Avaron gestured toward Gwyneth,”—the turn order goes left to right. Gwyneth, then, Saryl was it?”

“Yes.”

“And Elseh?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, once everyone has made a play, then that round is over and we go onto the next. The first two players must always put a bet in set by the dealer at the start of every round, or fold and quit until the match is done. Gwyneth and Saryl, go ahead and put in, mmm, 2 coins right here in the center.” Avaron adjusted her sitting, moving to a more comfortable cross-legged position. “This is important because if Gwyneth folds, then Saryl and Elseh would be forced to pay.”

“And that means points always go in until the … match, is done?” Elseh asked carefully.

“Correct. No endless loops here. Now, if you’re not forced to pay or fold, you can choose to pay, fold, or _raise_ the pot here,” Avaron said, tapping the coins in the center. “Whenever a player chooses to raise, we start from left to right again—match, fold, or raise. This is the betting phase; when its done I … whoops, forgot a step.” Avaron quickly set down three cards of her own next to the ‘pot’ of coins, face down on the grass. “When the first round of betting is done, I’ll flip these cards. Let’s work through that—Elseh, what do you want to do?”

“… Match, is it?” she said, slowly setting two coins into the pot.

“That’s fine. Betting is now done, so I flip—” and so Avaron turned over the three face down cards “—and now, what the cards do. I will play a total of five ‘community’ cards. These five cards, plus the two in your hand, must make a winning combination. Whoever has the highest, wins.”

“What are the combinations?” Gwyneth asked curiously.

Arzha’s ear perked up as Avaron went on, and on, and on about different sets of ‘winning’ cards and their point hierarchy. It sounded far too much to her at first, but it had a certain structure about it.

“… Anyway, it’ll be easier to understand once we play. You’re all quite lucky I know these stupid rules by heart. Okay, the community cards are out, new round of betting. Gwyneth?”

“I-in?” she said hesitantly, offering two coins. Saryl matched, as did Elseh. Thus, Avaron played a fourth card. The next round of betting went much the same; the final card landed. As with the first, the final round of betting happened.

“There,” Avaron said with a nod. “Now, betting is done, all cards are played: lay your hands down and reveal.”

They all did so, a bit hesitant as they showed. Avaron leaned in, looking over each before tapping Saryl’s cards. “Winner, straight.”

“R-really?” Saryl squeaked with surprise while Gwyneth let out a grumbly sound.

Elseh, however, asked, “How so?”

“She has the cards three and five; the cards two, four, and six are on the table. Five in a row; a straight. It’s a middle-ranked score, but none of you have a higher combination.”

“… I see.”

Avaron gestured at Saryl. “Go ahead and add the pot to your coins.”

The knight was rather giddy when she did so.

“Now, in real betting this would go on until the dealer closes the game, or you decide to quit playing. Hand me your cards, please.”

A reshuffle and a reset later, Avaron started dolling out the cards again. “To really be in the spirit of Poker, though—” she tapped her temple “—mind games is a real thing, too.”

“Mind games?” the three asked in unison.

“Maybe you have a bad hand, but you act confident and so your opponent folds. Or you have a great hand and act like you’re gonna lose, so your opponent goes in with even more money. You two are knights, it’s basic strategy, is it not?”

They nodded, and Elseh seemed to have found a particular insight.

“Now don’t get rowdy or anything, but manipulating your opponents is all apart of poker too, you see …”

The longer Arzha watched, the grander the strategies of the game unveiled themselves. It wasn’t a perfectly controlled environment—the luck of the draw from the dealer could singlehandedly decide everything. Yet, on the other hand, different options existed to set the stage. Once, she saw Gwyneth win just because she went ‘all in’, and her two knights turned cowardly and folded. Saryl’s hand would’ve crushed them all, but Gwyneth’s ploy secured victory.

Standing up, she ventured over to the play group, who fell silent at her approach. In sitting beside Elseh, she stared expectantly at Avaron, who sheepishly grinned.

“… I can deal you in next match. We’re due a reset anyway.”

“Very well.”

So it would be, the five of them were joined by two others, and the rest remained on watch. It didn’t escape Arzha’s notice how much Avaron captivated everyone—not through trickery, but a sort of charming personality. She wasn’t harsh to listen to, nor unduly stupid, either. Had she been human, she might’ve been a fair force to reckon in the noble courts. They played and played late into the night, coins of all kinds flying between players in grand gestures or slow, glacial climbs.

Much to Arzha’s chagrin, she wasn’t winning nearly as much as she expected.


	4. The Land of Ash For Real This Time

_Fear’s greatest enemy is honesty._

*~*

Avaron feared she might blast her pants. A whole night of so many _women_ around her, laughing and oozing the finest scents she’d smelled _sorely tested_ her resolve. Forget coffee cravings and a shot of espresso, the sheer craving alone transcended need into painful withdrawals. Just moving around was starting to become horrendously agonizing, and were it not for Arzha forcing her to ride on the same horse, she might’ve dropped in the field long ago.

At least the trotting, no-suspension-equipped horse was distracting enough. That the living statue of an amazon snuggled behind her in a firm, unyielding security was the _other_ distraction. Arzha deserved her position of princess, if not queen itself on looks alone. At least the uncaring, frigid disregard she gave everything put a dampener on that a bit. Pushing those thoughts aside, she instead said, “Right, so the different heroines will be split up?”

“Ideally. There is much they could do to help the many lands, but the problem ever remains the Church.”

“… If I might make a suggestion, perhaps unbecoming of my position?”

“I am listening.”

“You will want to knock the Church down pretty hard. Maybe not destroy the faith, but definitely remove its power.” When no real answer immediately followed, Avaron thought it might’ve been an overstep.

“Without the Church, how does one pay fealty to the Goddesses?”

“That is fair. The rules in this world are far different—but I can’t imagine the Church needs so much power on this mortal plane. If they wish to deliver fealty to the Goddesses, they don’t need armies to do so.”

“… How apt.”

That was the other problem; Arzha’s intense curtness made conversation quite one-sided. When the princess had an opinion, it came as a mighty statement and it was supported thusly. Otherwise, good luck. It reminded her of new customers of a high pedigree, in a way. They always wanted to be impressed, and their unspoken for expectations answered with a clairvoyant understanding. The mere thought of returning to that nerve-wracking hell reined in her mood quite well.

Instead, she leaned and look behind her, toward where Gwyneth rode in front of Saryl. “Hey, Gwyneth!” she spoke loudly, and the priestess looked up. “How long to Greenshill on horseback?”

“Two days, maybe?” Gwyneth returned.

“Two days on fair weather, four on bad,” Arzha instead said, low enough only for Avaron to hear.

“Oh? Erm, thanks.”

“Are you in a hurry?”

“… Forgive me if I might say something unbefitting to your royal ears.”

“Perhaps.”

“I _am_ a tentradom, and I’m reaching my limit.”

“… Limit?”

_Suddenly not too certain I should be talking about this, but …_ Avaron sighed, and thought of how to say it. “You humans have, well, sex when you want it. I do too, but I also _need_ to. I’m nearly a week since last time and I’m in, incredible pain right now.”

“I—I see.”

The hitch in Arzha’s voice, however faint it might’ve been, didn’t slip past Avaron. Nothing more was said, and the minutes passed by in galloping-filled quiet. To her surprise, Arzha shifted, and she felt the princess’ head come alongside hers, warm mouth breathing onto her ear.

“So, you do it with that priestess then?” Arzha asked, and for however delightful her breath felt, her words were a chilling world apart.

“She’s quite eager to help relieve me, yes,” Avaron returned dryly, rather not in the mood for games. The arms beside her holding the reins tightened up, and a curious scent reached her. Stress; tension, of some kind, but she couldn’t figure it out anymore. _Ah, prim and proper nobility,_ she thought with a sardonic smirk. “I quite don’t want to drop over in writhing agony, so she and I will need private time later.”

“… Quite.” Then, Arzha sat up straight and normal again.

As good an answer as ever she would get.

*~*

The mere thought of Avaron already committing such carnal activities left Arzha beside herself. She shouldn’t be surprised in the slightest, but it just _got to her_ in a way she couldn’t name. The whole feeling vexed her terribly, and she kept a stiff lip as they rode on and on. To speak nothing of herself, there was the matter of the two having their ‘privacy time’. Arzha mulled over the thought for a long while, but ultimately brushed the whole matter aside.

_It is no different when any of them want to,_ she considered, sending a sidelong glance to her Snowflake knights. _They will not complain._

Still, where did that leave her?

The idea hung as a cloud over her, all the way until they found an ideal place to rest. A small cove of trees grew in the plains next to a river, knee-deep as it was and babbling away. The party pulled up and dismounted, her knights making camp with a pleasant expediency. Nothing too heavy; they’d be heading out in an hour or two. The crumble of river rocks sounded with each of her steps, Arzha looking around all the while. A comfortable thicket; prying eyes from afar would have trouble seeing in, and fluffy, bushy plants crowded around the trees. Unlike the pine forest they’d left days before, the oak trees here were a touch unusual. Such were the trees in the Land of Ash, any way.

Arzha held up a beckoning hand, and Haleen hurried over immediately.

“My lady?”

“Our two guests,” Arzha said with an appreciable hushness, “are in the mood for a flower dance. I’ll be watching it myself.”

Haleen jerked with visible surprise, almost uncharacteristically honest for a moment. “If—if you believe it prudent, my lady. But given the nature of that … woman …”

“I understand. My protective charms will be sufficient, I think.” Arzha waved her hand dismissively, though it was pleasing to see Haleen’s due diligence. “Furthermore, a rare opportunity to see one of these creatures in, mm, action, myself.”

“… All the same, I will be nearby should you need me.”

“Of course. I leave the camp in your hands.” That necessary task out of the way, Arzha walked over to Avaron and Gwyneth at the camp’s edge, who seemed to be in a hushed conversation. They skittishly looked up at her approach, Avaron most of all seeming ill-at-ease. She appraised them coolly, her nose upturned. “There’s a place nearby for your business.”

“Eh?”  
  
“Oh?”

They both chirped at once, but Avaron recovered quickly. “T-thanks, I think?”

“Time is fleeting, get going.”

They followed her direction, heading off. In following them herself, Avaron looked over her shoulder once, then twice, almost doing a spittake. “We-we can find it ourselves, thank you,” she said with a skittish formality. Arzha met her wide eyes with a stern one in kind.

“You do need someone on guard,” she said, more as a statement than anything. When the two of them started to slow down and offer some half-hearted complaints, Arzha’s certain shove to their backs got them going again. “Be grateful I have deigned to do the duty myself.”

Ah, the icy cut of nobility served well when all others failed.

The three of them headed over, passing a fair way away from the camp. Not enough to be completely out of ear shot, incase something did actually happen. The ideal spot they found turned out to be a mostly clear spot near the base of a tree, flanked by a long, stretching bush almost too big to hold itself up anymore. The angled hump of the tree gave it a sort of seat-like holding, one Avaron quickly sat in. For her part, Arzha had another tree nearby she went and leaned up against. It offered a decent angle to see the impending event, or so she believed.

Arms crossed over her chest, she stared expectantly, meeting Avaron’s disbelieving glances every time she looked. “Ohh, fuck it,” the tentradom grumbled loudly, standing up right quick. The cord-like belt around her waist flew undone, her hands working speedily to rip it off and tear her pants right down. Arzha found herself rather at the sight: smooth legs so perfect they belonged on a statue, or a doll. A pleasant thickness to her thighs, a hint of muscles, and a rather shapely rear that’d fit nicely into her hands. Human, almost, until her eyes saw her knees.

_A doll indeed,_ Arzha mused. There was Avaron’s ‘thigh’, then deeply blue, fleshy tendrils of connective tissue where her knee should’ve been. Below laid her calves, then the same for her feet. Everywhere there should’ve been bony joints there were flesh tendrils connecting it all together. The odd sight turned out more strangely titillating than disgusting. Sitting down again, Avaron spread her legs open, putting her shapely, immaculate netherlips on display. They shimmered in the dim light, already drenched wet and parted with a hungry, anticipating twitch.

_Quite the lovely color._ Really, a rather exotic blue—sharply bright, pulsating with turquoise hints. The shape and structure were all too familiar, the color made it fantastically surreal. Beautiful, in a sense that Arzha might appreciate. Then Avaron’s pussy lips twitched in a way they really shouldn’t have. Contracting muscles and a tight lower belly followed before a long, _slithering thing_ emerged. Ribbed and ridged, its head flared in a fat X-shaped arrow-head, it twitched and twisted like a snake.

Arzha hadn’t a clue what face she was making right then before she mentally caught herself. _T-that’s a … what is the word, tentacle?_ _Eugh how does it move like that?_ Gwyneth kneeling in front of it obscured more from her sight, and she had to restrain herself from craning her neck. _What are you doing? Wait, with your_ mouth?

That slutty priestess was going to service that big thing with her _mouth_?

Arzha couldn’t believe her eyes, watching Gwyneth lick her lips and open wide, tongue flaring out with invitation. The tentacle slapped against her face with a wet smack so audible Arzha’s fine hairs stood on end. Avaron, however, quickly grabbed herself, keeping the wriggling thing away from Gwyneth for a moment.

“Th-there might be more than last time,” she said, huffing and puffing. “M-maybe just use your hands?”

Gwyneth shook her head, surprisingly. “Mine duty is to take it all!”

“Are you kidding? We don’t have a change of—ah, ahh—clothes this time!” Avaron chirped at the end, Gwyneth’s demure hands wrapping around her tentacle. They barely managed it, and the head of the thing was a fair bit bigger still!

“Please! I—I’ve been thinking on how to handle thee.”

“Ohh, sweet, merciful fuck—okay, fine, just be careful cause I’m—” Avaron’s words disappeared in a large, O-shaped exhale when Gwyneth’s mouth swallowed her tip. The tentacle spasmed and in a great, bulging plunge pushed its whole head into her mouth. The very tips of its arrow-head pushed at her cheeks, leaving dents where they undoubtedly anchored in.

Nearly slack-jawed herself, Arzha hid behind her hand. That _whole head_ went into Gwyneth’s mouth! The gagging, sucking slurp reached even her ears, punctuated by airy pops when the seal broke for a moment. _D-doesn’t that hurt?_ she wondered, but Gwyneth seemed all too happy bobbing her head up and down. Barely any more of the tentacle went in, so it must’ve been all for that scary looking head in her mouth. Her hands, meanwhile, traveled up and down the length, massaging with deep, flesh-indenting jerks and rubs.

It certainly worked given how Avaron leaned fully back, legs cocked open and twitching. Her delirious smile almost looked like she’d cry any second, her tongue starting to loll out of her mouth. In fact, it kept going, hanging out with a drooling sheen nearly a foot in length. Arzha stared more at that than anything else, the incredibly long, and undoubtedly flexible thing just _hanging_ there.

Suddenly, it made far more sense to her how tentradoms seduced women so effectively.

Sophisticated her own skill may be, such a fearsome looking tool would be the greatest challenger in her life. The mere thought of such a long, slippery appendage in her loins made Arzha clench her thighs together. Her mouth yet hidden by her hand, she licked her own lips. _Oh, but how would it be to kiss, hm …_ She might very well lose in a battle there, too! Were there any of her knights who could stand up to it? That thought hung for a hot second in her mind. _No, probably not._

Amidst her own thoughts and the sucking, slurping gulps of that slutty priestess, she smelled it. A scent, wafting in the air that had a homeliness to it, warm and rich. Before she realized it, a flushed, warmth of her own started in her belly, rising up with alarming quickness. The princess’ nipples tightened beneath her many layers, pushing stubbornly against her clothing. Worse, her pussy awoke with a thigh-clenching tingle, a sudden turn-on so quick Arzha stood straight up, at attention.

_This—this is it, isn’t it?_ Arzha realized, ever becoming more conscious of her own breathing. Every lungful of that warm scent left her tingling and _awake_ , her own blood rushing. Not quite adrenaline, but she’d had more than her fair of fun to recognize real, pussy-wettening arousal when it came. A blush came to her cheeks, one that wasn’t at all of her own making. _What incredible effectiveness it has._

Even more distressing, her magical wards did nothing to stop it. Smoke attacks were always hard to deal with, but even a rudimentary ward of wind would be sufficient. What about it wasn’t seen enough as a threat? Or obstructive enough? Something about it the wards simply didn’t recognize. A rather useful bit of insight, and an alarming realization she could be affected. _Then again,_ Arzha mused, seeing drool dribble down Gwyneth’s chin like a river. _It’s not … unmanageable._

A stronger dose would be a problem, surely, but at her distance, she’d be fine.

That her whole body tingled with desire wasn’t too troublesome either.

_She rather going at it,_ Arzha thought amusedly at Gwyneth’s vigorous working hands. Avaron’s legs lifted up somewhat, tightening at the knees as her face scrunched shut. Then, a most curious things—great, bulging lumps started descending down her tentacle. The first met Gwyneth’s lips, squeezing against them and the priestess let out the most girly squeal. Then it forced, and forced, and then _plunged_ through, disappearing into her mouth. What followed was the loudest, gulping squelch Arzha had heard; like a parched woman finding water!

Bulge after bulge disappeared into Gwyneth’s sucking mouth, each one followed by a gulp. Already it outstripped anything Arzha had ever seen or heard of before, and it just _kept going_. Sheer awe soon followed the admiral sight of Gwyneth’s determined gulping, but it was not to be. White, creamy strands started sputtering out between her lips, followed by more, and more, and more. Her throat no longer drank, and all that kept pumping into her mouth left the only way it could. Arching herself in a strange curve, Gwyneth’s head hung in the air, all of Avaron’s inhuman cum drooling out and down to the dirt beneath. It pooled and pooled, growing steadily enough to start reaching Gwyneth’s knees.

Yet, at last, no more bulges came, and the dripping, drooling river of cum ceased. In its wake remained long, thin strands, stretching from Gwyneth’s cum-soaked chin and lips down to the earth. Just a few seconds, then they snapped, disappearing as gossamer in the morning dew.

_How oddly poetic_ , Arzha wondered, beside herself. How did the priestess drink all of it? How much more was leaking to the ground still?! Enamored with the sight, she watched for a long, heart-pounding minute before Avaron’s tentacle twitched and pulled out of Gwyneth’s mouth with a squelching ‘pop’. The priestess’ hand immediately flew to her mouth, covering it but not before a glob of creamy cum spat out.

One last, throat-flexing gulp followed, and then Gwyneth broke the air with a sudden, airy inhale. “S-see?” she said, staring up at Avaron with flushed cheeks, all of her mouth splattered with sticky cum. “I—I drank more!”

“Y-yeah, yeah,” Avaron replied, sounding entirely out of her own mind.

The two sat there, breathing in huffs and simply _existing_.

Was it just her or was that warm scent getting stronger? Arzha felt her own mouth _tingle_ and start to drool with each inhale she took. Gulping down her own spit, she found herself rather in her own body once again, taking a footstep. The shock of movement catalyzed everything: her _throbbing_ pussy, aching for attention, and her painfully erect nipples squeezing against the unyielding wall of her chest armor. Even her butt felt needy! One, hard grope just to squeeze them so sweet and tight—she bit the inside of her lip, wrenching her mind awake.

_Dangerous, indeed._ It wasn’t hard to resist; no, it was easier to _slip into_ the mindset. A good trick; but just that, a trick. Arzha stepped over to the two, who startled at her clanking, heavy-booted approach. “If you two are done, then,” she bit out, a frosty edge sharper than even she expected, “let’s get going.”

Oh, walking wasn’t at all safe. Her sopping wet panties were almost squelching on their own with her steps. If it weren’t for her armor, everyone else might very well hear it.

She had only seen so little, and still, Arzha found tentradoms all the more dangerous to consider.

*~*

“The village is just ahead. For your sake, we will ride on ahead and conduct our business separately.”

Avaron nodded at Arzha’s words, and sheepishly scratched the back of her head. The princess had ever remained stiff lipped since watching yesterday, not that she blamed her. Someone that prim and proper might’ve had a curious mind, and bit off more than they could handle. _I really need to find out if jerking it is enough to calm this thing down._

“Thank thee kindly,” Gwyneth said, clapping her hands in prayer and bowing to the princess.

“I’m not sure how I can repay you,” Avaron remarked, shrugging with her hands open.

“Payment is unneeded. But, in the future, I would rather you think me your ally.”

“… Sure, that seems reasonable.”

“If you wish to get in contact, send a letter to Artor for the ‘Moonlit Rose Inn’, and I will receive it.”

“I’ll try to have instructions on where to send your response then.”

“Good. I wish you well on your travel. Knights!” Arzha thrust a hand up, and the many knights began trotting off ahead with her.

“See you again soon!” Saryl called out, waving along with Elseh. “Let’s play poker next time!”

Avaron blinked at the rather friendly departure, and waved back. “Sure!” she shouted, much to Saryl’s laughing joy.

When they left around the bend ahead, Avaron looked at Gwyneth. “Well, that uhh, happened.”

“One mustn’t question thy fortunes. Praise the Flame for this fortunate event!” Gwyneth declared, bowing her head to her hands, cupping that somehow still-alive flame in her hands. Avaron did likewise, though perhaps not as earnestly. “Let us continue on, to Greenshill village.”

They pushed on through the grass, climbing the nearby hill. Cresting the top, Avaron’s eyes widened at the sight of a large, sprawling village-slash-city. Although lacking in _tall_ buildings, it had more than enough houses, roads, walls, and the like to be truly immense. Wind mills dotted the highest of hills, rotating with white-clothed blades, and she spied several interesting looking aqueducts snaking into the village itself. By all accounts, a truly medieval hub of activity from a distance. She didn’t see much for incoming traders or caravans; but that might be on the farside of the village.

Elated at maybe having an _actual bed_ to sleep in, Avaron headed down the hill with a bounce in her step.

Life went grand, walking through the scenic grassy fields up until she hit the checkpoint gate.

At a distance it certainly fit a two-or-three story height, and a set of great, probably iron-bars blocked the way. Arzha and her knights were nowhere to be seen; probably already inside. The grass suddenly cleared away to a cobbly, gravel road, the first firm footing they’ve had since leaving Artor. The closer they came the greater the gate loomed, and she spotted two people sitting nearby at a corner. They saw them, and stood up, long, pointy sticks in hand.

Gwyneth raised a hand, waving in greeting, to which one of the guards did so as well.

“Ho there, travelers. What brings ya here?” one of them asked, a man with two fluffy ears poking out of his helmet and a long, orange-haired tail sweeping behind him. “Oh, is that you, Gwyneth?”

_A cat? Or a fox?_ Avaron wondered, rather vexed she couldn’t tell the difference.

“Tis indeed, Ghen. Mine return from Artor.”

“Bleedin’ walked all the way did ya?” Ghen chuckled, scratching at his head with some disbelief.

“Even simple struggle can be virtuous.”

“Suit yourself. Whose this with ya?”

“I’m Avaron. Something of a scholar, you see, joining Gwyneth here.”

“Scholar, eh?” Ghen eyeballed her, but it wasn’t a suspicious gaze. A guard had to do his job, after all. “Fair ‘nuff. It’ll be the usual fee to get in, Gwyneth.”

The priestess pulled out four coins from a pouch, and Ghen took them, pocketing it himself. Nodding, he turned around, and the three of them headed to a corner of the big gate. By all accounts, a smaller door to let one through. “Nothing fancy here then. Ya best be careful, Gwyneth.”

“Why so?”

“Rumors abound of heroines being summoned, got everyone real tight all of a sudden. They say its in Artor, and some Artor knights just came into town.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Lotta noise going on, so people are edgy.”

“Bless thee, Ghen.”

He nodded to her, then to Avaron, as both of them passed through the door. It shut behind them, and they continued down the gate’s tunnel. Here, gravel turned to laid brick, uneven and bumpy, but not terribly so. The street they walked out onto already had buildings on either side, cramped together as they were. By Avaron’s best guess, the lots had once been neatly spaced apart, then new buildings built in the spacing. Rather than expanding the village, they tried to cram more into what they had. Her wandering gaze moved from them to the large wall they’d just left.

_I guess in this world, walls matter a lot more and they aren’t that exactly to make. It’s not even concrete, is it?_

How much of a pain in the ass was that to make?

To its credit the village wasn’t as disorderly or messy as her mind first conjured. Tight fitting to be certain, but the roads had space, and people moved about with a purposeful air that wasn’t at all downtrodden. For a place with no electricity, AC, refrigeration, or really any modern convenience, they seemed to be doing pretty well for themselves. It reminded her, in a way, of her rare visits to less developed countries when she had the time to bother her humanitarian companies. Just with a bit more of a history-channel feeling to the whole thing.

Her idle musing took a back seat when Gwyneth pulled her toward a big, reinforced-looking door. A sign jutted out above it, showing what must’ve been a cup, or tankard, or something drink-holding. _A … tavern, I guess?_ she wondered, following Gwyneth inside. Warm air filled with a nose-cramming amount of scents slammed into her like an invisible wall, and Avaron nearly tripped over. Stumbling foot after foot, she brought up a sleeve to her nose, eyes watering. “Good, fuck, shit!”

“Is something wrong?”

“Damn this nose of mine. I—I’m fine, just what are we doing here?”

“Getting a room for the evening.”

“Cool, the faster the better.”

Gwyneth nodded, and moved on with a greater urgency.

She was right, all the same. They’d entered a tavern, richly full of noise and people chatting it away. All sorts could be found: humans, those cat-fox things, long-eared people with leaves coming out of them that might be elves, scantily dressed men and women ostensibly acting as waitresses, rather heavily armored looking folk too … One particular sight stood out, however. Sort toward the back of the whole expansive dining hall, a huge bubble of emptiness surrounded one person. Even at a distance, Avaron could tell they were huge, and something different. Armor covered them from head to toe, but just so many black _spikes_ jutted out of them. Their head, their shoulders, their legs—it looked like a damn porcupine almost. She hadn’t more time to give it a look before Gwyneth wrenched her awake.

“Our room is upstairs,” she said in a loud whisper, still barely discernible over the noise.

“Okay!”

They headed up a flight of sturdy stairs, the noise and nose-clogging smells fading rather quickly. Avaron let out a sigh of relief when they slipped into a room, modest as it was with a large build, a trunk at the bed’s end, and a table for four. It even had a window with curtains! Glass, too, instead of wooden shutters. The twilight sun snuck in, casting the otherwise dark room in a warm, hazy orange glow. A snap-clank of iron behind her followed the door shutting and locking, and Avaron pulled back her hood immediately.

“Ahh, finally,” she said with relief, scratching her head and fluffing up her sweat-matted hair. “I would kill for a bath right now.”

“V-verily?”

Something about Gwyneth’s earnestly confused chirp drew her attention. “It’s a figure of speech. You know, not that I would actually do that.”

“… Why say it, then?”

“… To convey how important it is to me?”

“Oh. I shall inquire if thine keeper hath one to spare.”

“If it isn’t too much trouble.”

Gwyneth shook her head and bowed, then headed out of the room. Avaron locked the door behind her just in case. For the first time since being thrown into a jail, she had a semblance of solitude. Peeling off the cloak around her, she folded and set it on the table before falling onto one of the simple wooden chairs. The translation from feet to butt brought a wonderful, slow sigh. Sitting and sitting there, she remained without a thought, just relaxing.

_I can’t believe I’m missing my office,_ Avaron thought incredulously. _I’d take a stack of TPS reports right now. I don’t even handle those damn things anymore and I’d take them._

She had the presence of mind to know her habits, likes and dislikes. In spite of it all, the whole new ‘living in another world’ experience just didn’t sit right in her mind. Not to mention the fact she was a week in and already pumping cum in someone she barely knew. Not that there was anything to dislike about Gwyneth, at least yet. Avaron ran her fingers through her hair, slouched back and staring at the wood wall while her thoughts wandered.

_… Actually, I should check that._

Her personal info-screen popped up immediately and she noticed a change right away. _Level … 2? How did I go from 1 to 2? Why didn’t I feel anything either?_ Her eyes went down to a new button, ‘Level Up’. _Starting to think whoever made this wasn’t that great at it. Okay, level up then?_

A new window appeared, and she saw five stats, named: Vitality, Resilience, Recovery, Strength, and Magic.

_Okay … now give me information but not picking one._

The screen, surprisingly, changed again. Avaron sat up a bit straighter, her intrigue piqued.

[Vitality: All physical characteristics, such as healthiness, stamina, endurance, and immunology.]

[Resilience: Ability to endure pain and discomfort; improves bodily durability against harm.]

[Recovery: Physical stamina and magical power recovery rate.]

[Strength: Physical power as expressed by utilizing strength to attack or carry things.]

[Magic: Proficiency with magical power.]

Oddly, Recovery was ‘grayed out’. She tried selecting it, but received a message instead.

[Your recovery is already max due to the skill ‘Divine Regeneration’.]

_Alright? Neat?_ Avaron wondered with a dubious smile. _Not really telling me where I’m at with these other ‘stats’. Then again, not like I’d know. Whatever, if it means I won’t have as much trouble walking, Resilience it is then._

The screen flickered, the word flashing green, then it returned back to her regular menu. Avaron looked around with a hint of superstition, then kind of pinched her forearm a little. Nothing really seemed all that different. A thought crept on her mind, one that made her pause. _Wait, if my recovery is maxed … then, is that why I can take such short breaks?_

Sure, walking burned her legs up fierce after a couple hours, but sitting down and it went away in no time at all. Her brow furrowed, the acute sense of a realization far too uncomfortable to ignore. _It takes me a few minutes what takes people hours or days to bounce back from. Like … athlete, but better_. That explained why she always ended up waiting on Gwyneth to start the march again. She must’ve been running the priestess ragged trying to keep up.

A pang of guilt struck, one she ever professionally set aside for later. There was another new field in the menu, one that really seemed quite out of place with its name. _‘Breeding Mates’. Really? Really?_ She opened it, eyes narrowed. The info-screen expanded, popping open a list of names; well, two names, in particular.

_‘Gwyneth Flamestoker and Arzha Shieldcrown’. Hold on, what the fuck?_ She did a doubletake at seeing that princess’ name, of all people, show up in the list. It popped open another screen. ‘ _Current relationship: lukewarm’. ‘Desires fulfillment and purpose’. ‘Desires luxury and comfort’. ‘Her Snowflake Knights are a package deal’. ‘War looms on the horizon and her family’s incompetence has disillusioned her’. Anything else? No? Okay then._

Before she even gave it a thought, she opened Gwyneth’s info next. _‘Current relationship: cum slut’. Not pulling any punches today are you, info-screen? ‘Desires prophetic realization’. ‘Desires comfort and familial bond’. ‘The dying Flame worries her, and she fears failing her duty’. ‘She seeks to enkindle the heroine the Flame has sent her to’. Now see, that’s a lot to take in at once right there._

_Wait, where did that little info button come from?_ A simple i-letter surrounded by a circle in the upper corner, an all but universal symbol. A new screen popped up over all the others.

[Breeding Mates: An enhanced party system unique to the tentradom. Form relationships with potential mates; as your bond deepens, more information will become available to help. A breeding mate can only be confirmed for party membership benefits once successfully impregnated. Party benefits include the normal party system benefits, in addition to any changes induced by tentradom breeding.]

One hand holding up pressed against her temple, the other strummed its fingers on the table. Avaron stared for a good long while, trying to process however many ideas just slapped her upside the face. More than anything else, a sort of ickiness settled over her; the feeling of encountering something most forbidden. _Is it really any different from spying on someone?_ she mused, lips pursed tightly. _In a world of goddesses influencing mere mortal people … hmph. Sounds like a police state more than anything else._

But, her sensibilities were another world’s.

Still, they were hard to let go.

A knock came at the door, jolting her and shutting all the menus. She crept up to next to it, and said, “Who goes?”

“Tis I,” came Gwyneth’s muffled voice.

Avaron unbolted and opened the door, and the priestess walked in with a rather large, rounded tub in her hands. She had to help her move it to the corner of a room before hurriedly shutting the door up again. “What in the world is this?” she asked, staring at the tub.

“Thy bath?” Gwyneth said, sounding suddenly uncertain. “I will fetch thy water now.”

She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it wasn’t that. Sheepishly scratching the back of her head, Avaron nodded. “Let me help, then.”

“Tis no trouble.”

“I’ll feel guilty if I don’t.”

“Verily? If thou wish, then.”

*~*

“Hey. Hey you.”

Nerg’s thick, spiny brow twitched, and she turned toward the noise. A small, stony-white human-looking thing wrapped in a cloak stood at the other side of her one-person table. She looked rather odd—definitely new, nothing Nerg had ever encountered before. “What?” she said as much as growled, her deep, bassy voice a bit metallic from within her iron helmet.

“Are you for hire perchance?”

An odd person and an odd question; it made her blink for a moment, the too-damn-small mug in her hand forgotten. “You’re asking _me?_ ”

“Well, yes? Biggest, strongest looking one here. Who else would be my first choice?”

“… Not from around here, are you?”

“Not at all. I’m Avaron,” the white-woman said, patting her chest. “A wandering scholar. I’m heading north toward Shadowpeak along with a priestess. Interested?”

_At least she’s curt,_ Nerg mused. In sitting up, her immense, muscularly bulky frame and 7’9 height put the chair under her to its utmost limit. Even sitting, she remained taller than Avaron, who scarcely looked any bigger than an ordinary human. “That’s a long journey. Sure you got the coin?”

“What’s your rate?”

“How much do you have?”

Surprisingly, the woman held up a wagging finger. “Never real what’s in your pocket, that’s rule one. What’s your rate?”

_At least she isn’t stupid._ Pushing her knuckles against her chin, she popped her neck with a sickening noise. “On foot, or by horse?”

“Foot, most likely. I’d like to do horse but there’s no caravans.”

“Mm. Ten silvers a day, you pay for food and drink.”

Avaron looked up, seemingly in thought. “In that case, we’ll handle accommodations, and you’ll be paid when we reach our destination.”

It was the best deal she’d heard yet. With trade drying up there probably wouldn’t be anything heading north for a good long while. Getting paid to go somewhere she was already headed just added a nice bonus to it all. “Fine then, deal.”

“What’s your name?”

“… Nerg.”

Avaron held out a hand to her, and Nerg stared at it in confusion for a hot second. It hung between them. “Not the shaking type, are you?”

“… Shaking? Oh, that human thing.” Really, wanting to touch _her?_ A harraxin? She reached out, and her enormous gloved hand enveloped Avaron’s completely, much to the woman’s queer laugh at the sight.

“Goodness you’re big,” she said with a smile, trying to move her arm up and down. Nerg, for her part, only offered the weakest of handshakes she felt she could do until they parted. “It must be nice. I get lost in a crowd in a heartbeat.”

“Hm. When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning. We’re getting all our supplies ready today, so I suggest you do, too.” Avaron gave her a blatant up-and-down appraisal. “Honestly I don’t know what you eat or how much.”

Nerg, utterly bemused, couldn’t help a disbelieving chuckle escaping. “The same as everyone else, just much more. I hope you like fresh kill.”

“Oh, camp food. Yeah, I don’t mind.”

“Hm. Where tomorrow?”

“The north gate, we’ll be on the inside waiting.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful.”

Avaron left, and Nerg finished off her morning snack.

By dawn crack next morning, she found herself with a heavy sack on her back once again. Her dragon-like feet smacked the ground with every step, the scrape of thick, armor-rending claws quite distinct. Softer still was the rattle of her spines, protruding as they were from her shoulders, calves, and her mane of spiny hair. The bony-white, black-tipped things bounced with every step in a soft cacophony, a sound she’d ever learned to tune out in her life. Her Warhammer hung from her back, the two-handed steel weapon the only other thing than her leather body armor she wore.

Two cloaked figures stood on the road ahead to the north gate, one rather shorter than the other. One turned toward her, and she saw Avaron’s distinct white face peaking out. A hand shot up in a long wave, which caused the other to look as well. Unlike Avaron, they all but jumped on the spot, and hurriedly broke into whispers. The sight of a flame in her hands made Nerg pause for a step; but upon another look, it was too weak to be a dangerous spell.

Now, that was the more typical response she expected.

“—xin, art thou certain?!”

“Yes, yes, I hired her. What is the fuss about?” Avaron asked, their conversation just now reaching Nerg’s ears.

“Tis, well—” the other woman looked toward Nerg, then back again, suddenly bashful with how her hands fidgeted. By then, Nerg reached the two in all her imposing height, and she looked down at them with her expectant, brightly yellow eyes.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, no,” Avaron said, waving a hand dismissively. “We’re all ready. Are you?”

Nerg nodded, and Avaron clapped.

“Let’s get going then. This is Gwyneth, by the way.”

“… The Flame priestess?”

“Verily,” Gwyneth affirmed, sounding rather stiff. Nerg couldn’t help smiling under her helmet at the sound.

Human women were always so _uncomfortable_ around her.

They departed without any fuss, heading up the gravel road that led north. Unsurprisingly, she hardly saw anyone in the surrounding fields or the road itself save messengers and a few patrolling guards. Greenshill had clammed up tight ever since the heroine summoning, but it surprised her how _firmly_ it had done so. Supposedly caravans already enroute had suddenly reversed direction, or so some merchants griped about in the tavern. Really, she couldn’t imagine it being that big of a deal, but so it was.

The greater mystery in front of her was why Gwyneth was leading the way, while Avaron walked in the middle. Or, not so much a mystery as a rather funny sight. To her actual surprise, Avaron turned around, walking backwards while looking at her.

“Alright, I hope you don’t think I’m rude if I ask something.”

A reflexive tension arose quite sharply, and Nerg looked at the white-faced woman wearily. “What is it?”

“She—” Avaron jerked a thumb over her shoulder, “—was saying something about a ‘harraxin’, but I’ve never heard of that. Mind explaining it to me?”

“… I am a harraxin,” Nerg said, pointing at herself for added clarity.

Avaron held out her arms in a shrug. “Okay? What does that mean?”

“Harraxin are strong brutes,” Gwyneth cut in suddenly. “Rapacious and conniving, who often raid, rape and pillage others. Tis their cruelty that made many a war for the lands.”

Nerg’s eyes narrowed, her spines clacking up in a raised hackled. Surprisingly, Avaron gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes and a loud sigh.

“Thank you, Gwyneth,” she said dryly. “But what do you have to say?”

“… Hm, well, she isn’t wrong.”

_That_ surprised Avaron apparently, who nearly tripped over backwards. Catching herself, she spun around into a rightward facing walk, but fell into step beside Nerg’s rather restrained movement. Walking at human speed was, after all, practically a crawl for her. “How do you mean?”

Actually explaining to someone who didn’t already know felt rather strange. New, but strange. Nerg scratched at her head, thickly clawed fingers raking through the spines. “We harraxin value strength. If you’re weak, you’re weak. No one respects that.”

“Sooo, a warrior race? Live for battle?”

“… No,” Nerg curtly said, finding the idea rather amusing. “War came to us; we didn’t go to war. Harraxin were always strong, but some got different ideas.”

“Different how?”

Nerg shrugged dispassionately. “Weaklings should belong to us, or some nonsense. It was the men who often thought that way.”

“Why them?”

The ceaseless questions were rather irritating, but she _was_ being paid. Nerg held up an arm, and even covered in the light leather it was, her bulging muscles stood prominently—even more when she flexed, the leather all but creaking under the strain. “Harraxi women the strongest. Men are weak, but not weaker than others. So, men go and attack everyone else if they can’t win against women.”

“… For what? Loot? Gold?”

“Women.”

“… Oh.”

“Human women the best, supposedly. Many harraxi men raid humans for them, and so many wars happen. It was all very stupid.”

“What happened to end them, then?”

“After everyone or most everyone died, the other women started rounding up the men. Less of a problem giving them a pity fuck than dealing with human warriors all the time.”

“A … pity fuck.”

The way Avaron echoed her words sounded hilarious enough for Nerg to laugh in a deep, bass-filled laugh. “Exactly that. No woman wants to fuck a weakling, it’s not fun. And your children might be weak, too. If you can’t beat us, you don’t get to fuck us.”

“I’m amazed your species has survived at all.”

Nerg’s brow shot upward. “Ho? Why is that?”

“I mean, if the men have to leave to find other women so much, how did anyone make children at all?”

Giving it a hot moment of thinking, Nerg ultimately shrugged her shoulders noisily. “Pity fucking.”

“I—I guess?” Avaron said, and no more of her annoying questions came.

Walking in silence was going to be a luxury, Nerg suspected in the back of her mind.


	5. Blackwood Forest and Spring Baths

_Foolish is the one who believes might alone rules eternal._

*~*

“Starting to see why they call it Blackwood Forest,” Avaron remarked dryly, eye balling the oak trees around them. Although twisted and gnarled, their thick trunks were a deep, blackish color, cracks and grouts in them revealing a lighter, ashen gray interior. Their leaves, surprisingly, remained pretty green.

“Tis said when the lands burned, the forest remained, their trunks charred black. Every tree since grew just as black ever since.”

“… A bit strange fire could do something like that, but alright.”

“There is much power in Flame; more than simple heat.”

“Well, the heat is a good delivery vehicle. Depending on how hot it is changes how it can transforms everything.”

Gwyneth looked over, her mouth agape with surprise. “T-thou art quite perceptive!”

For a moment Avaron thought she heard sarcasm. Yet, Gwyneth’s earnesty made her believe it to be more genuine than mocking. “I … is that so surprising?”

“Few grasp that it is Flame which transforms, not destroys.”

“In fairness, if most things transform into something useless, it’s basically destroyed.”

“Ah, well …” Gwyneth seemed rather lost at that, and Nerg’s deep laugh from behind broke the air.

“She got you there.”

For as immense and foreboding as she seemed to be, Nerg turned out a rather comfortable addition. That, and Avaron felt quite glad to have someone that strong with them. Although her rampant curiosity wouldn’t shut up about trying to learn more _about_ her at all. A tiny bit of guilt arose at such blatant interest of someone so ‘exotic’, a problem she thought she’d outgrown. Sighing lightly, she looked up into the canopy, thick as it was. The mid-day sun barely found anywhere to shine through, casting piercing rays of light all around them. Some plants always huddled around these light spots, greedily hogging the sun in an otherwise barren dirt field, strewn with tree roots and dead foliage.

Trees were vicious predators, after all.

“Huh, there’s a sign ahead.” Nerg’s call out made the other two women look. Further up their winding, uneven path, a distinct solid pole jutted up, something hanging off. Vines of a kind had overgrown it at one point before dying, leaving it all a crumbly, covered up mess.

“Is that part of the route?” Avaron asked.

“No. Tis quite curious,” Gwyneth returned.

The three of them gathered around it, with Avaron clearing away the debris. Nerg read aloud, “Katchin Springs.”

“… Springs?”

“A bath house?” Gwyneth mused. “Where doth it point?”

Avaron angled her arm somewhere off the side. “Seems like it might detour a bit.”

“That crappy sign probably means its abandoned,” Nerg said, rather aptly voicing the thought Avaron had.

“It’s a bit early, but it might be a decent place to camp out for the night?”

“Probably,” Nerg remarked nonchalantly.

“Let’s go take a look at least,” Avaron said, heading off with the other two toward the mystery place. Old cobblestone and wooden planks marked the path, upturned and broken as it was. They rounded a bend around an enormous black oak tree before it came into view before them. A large, three-story house with a brick fence surrounding its property loomed in the sun-pierced gloom. Surprising them all, most of the wood framing and brickwork stood without much issue, dirt and grime aside. It looked more abandoned than ruined. They came up to the ‘gate’, the iron-bars broken off their hinges and hanging on, if just barely.

“Strange,” Gwyneth remarked, drawing attention.

“What?” Nerg asked gruffly.

“A presence lingers here, one mine senses cannot pin.”

“Is it bad?” Avaron asked, trying _not_ to think of ghost stories.

“No, but … off.”

A scraping of leaves off to the side made the three jump and turn in a mighty whirl. Four-legs, brown coated, and pignosed, a creature emerged from a thicket, snorting and sniffing the ground. By all accounts, a boar—if quite large in size. Avaron let out an angry sigh at the sight. “It’s just a stupid animal, goodness.”

The sound of a backpack hitting the ground made her look over. In the next few moments, Nerg went forward in great lunging steps, warhammer drawn. The boar looked up with alert at her sudden approach, only to find the long end of her huge weapon crashing onto its skull. The sickening crunch of bone and meat followed the thump of its body hitting the ground. “Hah!” she shouted in triumph. “A grand dinner tonight!”

Feeling rather queasy at the sight, Avaron turned around. “Uh, great! Wonderful. Can you clean it up while we go look inside?”

“Sure. Scream if you’re in trouble.”

Leaving Nerg to that rather disturbing sight, she ushered Gwyneth into the house’s courtyard. What might’ve been animal stalls or an unloading area, now only the bare remains of posts and half-broken sheds. And, thankfully, no other wild animals. Reaching the front door, she gave its iron handle a quick jiggle. Although stiff, it soon yielded, and a click sounded. It didn’t open on her first try, and so Avaron put her shoulder to the door, giving a few hearty hits. On the fourth, it cracked and opened, its hinges whining with a horridly awful screech.

The dark interior loomed before them, Gwyneth’s tiny flame barely lighting the floor beneath them. Avaron saw a vague outline of a front reception desk, and it seemed a hall to their left and right awaited. They slowly stepped instead, boots against wood echoing with every step. Reaching the desk, Avaron looked around, finding nothing left—no documents, no chairs, just the desk itself.

“Tis quite ordinary in here,” Gwyneth remarked.

“Indeed …” Avaron, eyes narrowing, wiped her hand across the top of the desk then looked. “If this place is abandoned, where is all the dust?”

“The dust?”

“This desk should be filthy. And so should the floor, for that matter.”

“I will trust thy eyes on the matter. Tis suspicious indeed.”

“… Too suspicious. Unless there’s some kind of cleaning magic I don’t know?”

“That would mean someone is here.”

Avaron nodded. “Right, let’s go then, we’ll camp outside.”

They turned around, and the door they came through slammed shut hard enough it rattled the air. Both women jumped, Gwyneth’s flame flaring to thrice its size menacingly, and Avaron hiding behind her. Then came the laughter; a high-pitched, haughty laugh of a woman well practiced with her voice.

“Ahu-hu-hu-hu, my, such lovely pretties!”

Avaron and Gwyneth looked up, and there she was. Shrouded in darkness, the light of a purple flaming candle betrayed a terrifying humanoid. Three pairs of ruby eyes crowned a chitinous face, a thin nose separating them from her enlarged spider fangs. Black hair, pressed flatly prim and proper, hung down her shoulders, half of it spilling down her low-cut dress onto her lilac-colored cleavage. In fact, to Avaron’s surprise, she was wearing a kind of kimono—the sakura blossom pattern on its pink and white fabric gave it away.

“Spoil my fun will you? I haven’t had guests in such a long time,” the spider woman cooed, her elegant tongue oozing with venom. “Stay a while at my lovely—”

The double-doors that had just shut slammed open in a thunderous bang, all of them jumping damn near out of their skin. Their many eyes turned to the side of Nerg setting her foot down, warhammer in hand. “What is all this?”

“M-my door! You broke my doors!” the spider woman screeched, waving four whole arms up and down incredulously. “Do you know how expensive that is?!”

“Uhh …” Nerg intoned, looking down at her two fellows. “What?”

“I think she was about to trap us before you broke in,” Avaron remarked, looking back up at the angry woman. “What do you—”

“Trap you?!” the spider shouted, her chitinous face contorting into a scowl. “Why would I trap people in my inn?! My first guests in years, nonetheless?!”

“You’re not helping the image with your scary antics!” Avaron yelled back, utterly incredulous. “Who shuts a door on people like that?!”

“I can’t have you just leave, now can I?! I clean this place and no one comes!”

“Clean? Have you seen the outside?!”

“Oh, well, I can’t get there,” the spider said, her anger evaporating instantly into a cool, evasive disregard. All her eyes looked away from Avaron’s and her party, rather quite bashful all of a sudden. “That’s not really my fault now, is it?”

“… How art thou cursed?” Gwyneth asked, earning a resounding sigh from the spider.

“It really isn’t any of your business.”

“If you say so. Let’s all go camp in the woods—”

“Wait, wait, wait!” the spider cut off Avaron quickly, her regal composure gone in a flash. “I may have done something to offend a certain mage. She cursed me to be stuck inside my inn as a result.”

“What did you do?”

“That—that is rather private …”

“Leaving seems like a good idea.”

Her face scrunching up, she let out a long, suffering sigh of defeat through her teeth. “The mage had a daughter, you see. A pretty little flower fresh in bloom who needed my guidance, after all.”

Two and two equaled four in this situation and Avaron’s cheeks puffed up, her laugh barely caught in time.

“It’s not funny!”

“It really is,” she said. “Why are you alone here, then? If this inn was prosperous.”

“… The customers stopped coming gradually, then the employees left. I can’t pay without coin, after all. No one comes here anymore, not even bandits.”

Something about her words tickled Avaron; a nagging desire to reassure the woman. Terrifyingly strange as she might be, to be trapped in such loneliness was all-too-familiar to her. Still, prudence. She leaned over to Gwyneth’s ear and whispered. “Is she speaking the truth?”

“Verily.”

Humming in understanding, she pulled away and looked up again. “So what’s your name? I’m Avaron, this is Gwyneth, and that’s Nerg.”

Clapping her hands together, they all disappeared into her kimono sleeves, save the one holding the candle. “I am Tsugumi, owner of Katchin Springs.”

“How’d you stay alive if you can’t leave?” Nerg asked suddenly.

“I’m quite good at luring in wild game. You stole that boar from me, as it happens to be.”

“Oh.” Nerg laughed at that and set her warhammer onto her back again. “Well, it’s bleeding dry out there.”

Gwyneth’s word proved as good as any in Avaron’s mind. “Well, if it’s no trouble then, we’ll stay the night at your inn, Tsugumi.”

“You will?!” Tsugumi smiled, her fangs quite prominent when she did so. Her hands clapped together then, and the darkness within vanished as torches came to life. Orange-colored, fiery torches flicked on in an instant, exposing the very Japanese-like interior them. Firm, evenly spaced wooden planks set against walls whose bottom halves supported the larger, cloth-like wall paper above. Different shoji sliding doors marked the hallways Avaron saw earlier. All of it, while clean, had visible marks of damage in tears, decay, or miscolorations.

Tsugumi herself dropped from the web-filled rafters, landing with the softest tap of her sandal-wearing feet. The eerie candle light snuffed itself out, and so all four of her arms folded together properly in a bow. “Please, be welcome! I will give you the finest rooms I have left.”

“Not to be ungrateful, but what’s your rate?”

Tsugumi straightened up, smiling ruefully. “What good is coin to me now? Let me be a gracious host, if one last time.”

Trying to remember the exact etiquette, Avaron bowed to a rather surprised Tsugumi. “We’ll be in your care.”

“You … are from Hashon?”

“No, but I’m familiar with some of the custom.”

“Ah.”

*~*

A knock came at the shoji, and Avaron turned around in the bedroom. It slid open, revealing Tsugumi kneeling on the ground.

“Honored guest, your bath is ready.”

“That was fast.”

“I shall take you there, if you are ready.”

Avaron looked down to her spotty bathrobe. The fine white silk had stained yellow long ago, but it still felt quite soft wrapped around her naked body as it was. “Uhh, should be. Please, thank you.”

Tsugumi stood, and Avaron followed by her, their feet quite loud in the utter silence of the inn. The thought struck another pang in her chest, one Avaron wasn’t readily able to ignore. She let out a despondent sigh while scratching the back of her head.

“Is something amiss, honored guest?” Tsugumi’s reply came immediate, half turned and three eyes looking back worriedly.

“I just, well, feel bad, is all.”

“What about?”

“Your whole situation. Being stuck here, that is.”

“Oh … It is kind of you, but do not be troubled. I’ve long resigned myself to it.”

“It’s because I know what it’s like, is all.”

“Do you?”

The frigidness of those words didn’t pass her by, but Avaron knew the sort of game it needed. “Yeah. Not exactly like yours, obviously. But being trapped, alone, and nothing you can do ever, ever gets you out. Just … all of it. I understand, even if I sound like a bit of an ass saying that.”

“Mmm.” Tsugumi’s throaty acknowledgement certainly agreed. “It is what it is. I but only pray, for I have nothing else left.”

“I don’t know about that, but if you want to talk, the offer is there.”

“… I thank you.”

Silence fell in the remainder of their walk through the dilapidated inn. They soon arrived at a buffer room, where the wooden floor led down onto smooth stone, and sandals awaited by the stairs. Tsugumi slipped hers on first, then Avaron. Sliding open the shoji, Tsugumi bowed and gestured at the entry. “The baths are through here. Please, relax and enjoy them to their fullest.”

Nodding, Avaron headed through, and found herself stepping onto a large patio of sorts. A spaciously tall, thin-looking roof covered it, stretching all the way ahead and over the bath spring itself. _Wow it has the rock border and everything,_ Avaron thought with intrigue, stepping over. The cooler forest air disappeared beneath the quiet rolling heat of the spring—not quite steaming, but distinct. Crouching by the edge, she stared into the mostly clear waters, eying the pebbly bottom and smooth-sculpted stone seats. She quite liked the comely charm it all had.

Standing up, she spied the semi-private stalls off to the side of the patio, a series of wooden tubes over them. In going into one, she found some plain soap and wash cloths waiting inside a bucket. Hanging her robe up on a hook, she set about the ‘proper cleaning’ portion, getting all the actual dirt and grime off. Her skin actually changed tones somewhat, brightening up from the duller white it had become. Avaron stared at her half-cleaned, half-dirty body bemusedly. _It’s like I’m washing a table, but I’m all skin still?_

Such an odd thing to see; it entertained her the whole time.

Almost sparkly clean and feeling fresh, she pulled a string, and a pipe overhead washed her down with hot water. Shaking it off and wiping her eyes clear, she set sights on destination: spring. Standing at the edge again, she dipped her toes first, shivering from the rush of liquid heat. Hot, but not unbearable. Feeling rather giddy, she stepped in, hurrying down until the water rose just over her modest breasts. A pleasant sigh slipped out on its own, and she couldn’t help smiling.

_Fuck the tub and rag, this is it._

Whenever would she have a full body bath again? Probably not for a long while once they left.

“Whose there?”

The deep voice made her jump, and Avaron looked over. Further across the spring, and once hidden by some fortunate bushes, was Nerg. The huge woman laid in the water, held up at the edge of the spring with her arms in one relaxed looking posture. Avaron’s eyes immediately fell to her huge, utterly impressive breasts, happily sitting half-submerged. Her dark olive skin and its bespeckled black spots oddly complimented the dangerous looking spiky spines coming out of her shoulders. Those yellow eyes caught her own, and Avaron sheepishly smiled. “I didn’t know you were in here already.”

“Been for a while. That tiny inn keeper was real adamant about washing me first though.”

“It’s … proper, for this sort of bath.”

“It’s big enough to fit me, I don’t really care.” Nerg simply shrugged and her head lolled back again, her two huge, bulging-if-tapered horns hanging up loud and proud. Avaron found them kind of cute, their intimidating nature aside—big, rounded bases from the side of her head above her hears, sweeping forward in a slight curving arc. Not at all like a bull’s, she had a hard time pinning an exact comparison.

A thought came, one of Nerg standing up and the water barely reaching her thighs. Avaron smiled and hurriedly sank deeper in the waters, trying to banish the idea. All the same, her eyes couldn’t quite keep away, glancing at Nerg curiously. Really she was just hired help so it wouldn’t be terribly proper of her. For want of conversation, she opted to walk around in a slow, crab-like walk around the spring, enjoying the hot heat and waters. Her eyes wandered to the edges, fairly barren save small rocks and some patches of dirt. _I wonder if there were plants here, once._

Perhaps not sakura blossoms and those fluffy, thin bushes popular in Japan.

Her walk turned to sitting at a comfortably smooth spot, leaving her chin deep. _It’s odd, though,_ she thought to herself, folding her hands together. _For something this distinct from Earth to appear … hm. Summoned heroines have been happening for a while. Long enough to influence the world quite substantially?_ She hadn’t seen much out of the unusual in Greenshill. Nothing exceptionally modern, even in the upstanding inn they stayed at.

Logically, it meant either Earth-based knowledge hadn’t spread far, or hadn’t been terribly transformative. Not until Tsugumi’s inn, at least. _Then again, if there isn’t a printing press or unifying power, it would mean most changes would be very local?_ One thought above all hung in her mind, a terrifying specter no sane person would ignore. “But without machinery they can’t really make guns efficiently … oh, there is flintlocks, isn’t there?”

“There’s what?”

Avaron startled and looked up, finding a _very big_ Nerg standing nearby. Somehow that giantess moved nearby, standing up with the water at thigh-high depth. Her eyes fell upon her bosomy chest almost immediately, taking _distinct_ notice of her fairly plump, prominent nipples. She wrenched her gaze upward, meeting Nerg’s difficult to discern expression. “Uh, a kind of weapon.”

“What’s it do?” Nerg sat down in a fall next to her, the sudden movement sending a wave that nearly ripped Avaron along with it. Barely catching herself in time, she smiled sheepishly when one big, wall-of-muscle arm came around her shoulders. Not quite grabbing onto her, but with all the subtlety of a teenager in a movie theater. Nerg leered down at her, the angles of her face and its fearsome features rather quite hair-raising to look at.

“Uhm, well.” Avaron looked away for a moment, brushing some wet hair out of her face. “It might sound ridiculous. Imagine a long, thin barrel—” she emphasized with her hands, “—that can produce a great flame instantly.”

“A magic weapon, then?”

Avaron’s nose scrunched up. “Kind of. You know how when there’s a lot of fire at once, it pushes things back?”

“… Sure.”

“The flame starts at one end of inside the barrel, then pushes a pointed metal ball out the end of the barrel. Really, really fast.”

“A metal ball?” Nerg repeated, her spiny brows furrowing together. Such a gesture made their relaxed, laid-back state flair up instead, pointing out with menace. “What for?”

“Imagine an arrow that flies six times as fast, and goes ten times as far, and punches straight through a knight’s breastplate.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“It must be a difficult thing to control …”

Avaron shook her head, making Nerg appear disbelieving. “No. It’s far easier than a bow, and a peasant child of 10 years could wield it effectively in a few weeks.”

“Now you’re pulling my spines.”

“I only wish I was.”

Their gazes met, and Nerg scratched at her spiny hair with a distinct, raking clank of claws. “Where in the world does such a thing exist?”

“Not here apparently. Not yet, maybe.” Avaron looked away, staring across the spring waters. “But its power is great and terrible. In the lands I left, knights all but disappeared, along with swords, spears, and everything else. Only guns remained, and you never saw the person you’d kill or who might kill you.”

Nerg made a grumbling, irritable noise, but otherwise had nothing to say. A silence of sorts fell between them, and Avaron found herself rather fine to sit there—at least until a big hand landed solidly on her shoulder. In a combination move of being pulled and Nerg coming closer, she ended up against the big woman’s side. The thin veneer of soft skin didn’t hide at all the ripping-hard, defined muscles she felt, and a pleasant little shiver crept down her back at the sensation.

“Oh, my,” Avaron remarked, surprised even at her own genuine sound.

“I know what you’re on about,” Nerg said, oozing smugness.

“Do you?” Avaron asked, peeking up into that captivating leer. The hand on her shoulder squeezed a bit, almost massaging with how pleasant it moved.

“Only women who look at me like that want a fight or a fuck.” Nerg leaned in closer and grinned, showing her wedge-like yellow-tinted shark teeth. “And you don’t look like a fighter.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” Avaron shot back with her own smirk, which caught Nerg off-guard for a moment. The harraxin threw her head back with an earnestly deep, rumbling chuckle, jostling Avaron beside her. “You think I’m kidding?”

“Oh, no,” Nerg said, waving her free hand dismissively while she smiled sardonically. “You might be, for one of your kind. Mine, though. Different kind of toughness.”

_[Divine Regeneration] don’t fail me now._ Avaron reached out rather boldly with a hand, taking a good, appreciative grope of Nerg’s shapely abs. The bigger woman jolted a bit, all her spines standing up for a moment. “There’s only one real way to find out, isn’t there?” she said lowly, staring up with a seductive look. Nerg perked up at that, her fearsome face contorting with a bewildered excitement.

“Teasing me is dangerous, woman,” she rumbled out, the sound not at all threatening. “And I’d rather get paid before breaking you in.”

Avaron earnestly chuckled and moved, crawling onto Nerg’s lap and planting her butt firmly on those big thighs of hers. “Why, if I didn’t know better, that sounds like a promise to me,” she said, only just then taking in a real, appreciative view before her. Nerg’s lovely huge breasts, hung before her, an inviting amount of cleavage beckoning her face to explore. Further up, the warrior looked quite _alert_ if not on edge, staring with those piercing yellow eyes. “Would you do that? Break me in?”

“Mmm,” Nerg throatily hummed, a sort of rumbling purr that sent vibrations in the water and up Avaron’s butt. “You won’t even walk for days when I’m done.”

Avaron smirked and held a finger to her lips. “Really? I was thinking that about you, trapped in my bed underneath me …”

“Big talk, woman,” Nerg said darkly, her spines perking up. “But I’m nice. You can take it back.”

“Hmm? Hm.” Avaron slowly sat up on her knees, bringing her more eye-level with Nerg, and leaned in. Those big breasts cushioned against her chest, a firm softness that felt heavenly to lay on. At such a distance, they were almost nose-to-nose, relative size being what it is. “I talk big because I walk big. How about you and I have a little bet?”

Nerg’s throaty chuckle bumped and vibrated through Avaron, the harraxin rolling her yellow eyes. Affixing them to Avaron with a pointed intent, she said, “What kind of bet?”

“If you can hold out from my womanly charms until we get to Shadowpeak, you can do what—ever—you—want to me for a whole week,” Avaron enthused, every word as husky as could be. Nerg went wide-eyed, almost taken aback. “But if I win, you become mine for a week. Sound fair?”

“And what is ‘holding out’?” Nerg asked suspiciously.

“Oh, let’s say, cumming? Or making you _demand_ I give you relief.”

Nerg sucked in air through her nose, jaw clenching. All the spines of her upper body prickled and stood up, and for a hot second, Avaron thought she seriously misread the atmosphere. Then a big, grasping hand thickly firm grabbed her butt, and five powerful fingers sank in with the tightest grip she’d ever felt. An involuntary moan escaped, the sheer power of it utterly _thrilling_ her. Nerg squeezed her like a piece of meat, feeling up her butt with frank appreciation. “Such an easy thing, it’s almost unfair,” she rumbled, smirking. “You think you can hide in Shadowpeak from me when you lose?”

“I don’t hide,” Avaron said with a hot tremble to her voice. “But I don’t think you’ll win that easy.”

“Oh? Fine, then, little woman. I’ll take your bet.”

Smiling secretively, Avaron leaned in, taking Nerg by surprise with a wet, full kiss. The difference in their mouths became apparent, but by far tasteful place as soft as it was firm. She held it for a moment, but it was Nerg who opened, and a hot, slippery wet thing slapped into her mouth. Avaron gasped as the sensation, only realizing when it plunged in what she’d done. Her tongue felt tiny under its immense size, barely at all able to match its tasting, swiping licks inside. Hot spit and Nerg’s own unique flavor filled her mouth so wonderfully her jaw tingled, salivating at the prospect of a fine meal.

_It’s so big,_ she marveled, trying to take control. In failing, she grew frustrated for Nerg’s eyes crinkled with laughter, and her mouth smirked. Scowling, Avaron pushed in, forcing herself on Nerg’s lips harder, and her own tongue came to life. It grew in length and scope, swirling around Nerg’s own behemoth like a constricting snake. The harraxin sputtered in her throat, surprise overcoming her—opening a fatal weakness. Avaron pushed in, chasing Nerg’s retreating tongue into her warm cave of a mouth.

Avaron shuddered, hugging herself closer, and Nerg’s hand on her butt squeezed wonderfully hard. Without skipping a beat she took all she could, swiping and licking, plunging and sucking out, drinking every little drop she could. Nerg shuddered underneath her, a throaty, deep noise of some kind arising—a moan, from the huge woman? She tried fighting back, but perhaps off-balance, Avaron had free reign. _Oh her teeth feel so strange,_ Avaron thought queerly. The wedge-shaped things, while quite pointed, weren’t sharp. A certain sense of danger settled on her mind, and another of Nerg’s hands came to her back.

She pulled away, breaking the mouth-fucking kiss with a gasp. Drool and spit alike followed, though whose was whose, no one could tell. Nerg, sitting back, stared wide-eyed and hazy, her mouth hanging open in a mix of disbelief and raw, flushed skin. Avaron wiped her own lips with the back of her hand, quite liking the sight before her. Something about it all tasted _wonderful_ , like a fine meal with a perfect soft, filling texture to it.

“Well then, dear Nerg,” Avaron said, smiling. “I think it’s time for my bath to be over.”

“… Huh?” Nerg said, blinking and quite literally snapping to awareness. “Think you can run from _me?_ ”

“No, not at all.” Avaron set a hand against Nerg’s face, trailing her fingers from temple-to-jaw. The hardy bones underneath and soft, if tight skin, felt quite lovely to touch. The hardy black spots even seemed to be scales of a kind. “I can go and go and go … if you want to.”

Sucking in a breath, Nerg’s angry snorting huff of air blew Avaron’s face. “So it’s like that.”

Pulling herself back, Nerg’s hand fell from her butt, a red-definitive handprint marring the throbbing skin there. Avaron shuddered from the hot water touching it, a gay little smile on her face. Standing up in the spring, she made a show of grabbing her modest breasts, squeezing them up and tight in a presentation to Nerg’s captivated eyes. She hid her blue nipples behind her fingers, but let a little areola show just for a hint. “Mmm, yup. You can grab these any time you want.”

Letting them go with a playful flop, she spun around, showing her porcelain-white butt and big, proud handprint Nerg left on it. “And this, too,” she said, slapping her other cheek with a hand. The harraxin let out a frustrated groan at the sight, almost grabbing her right then. Her hand hovered just short of doing so, twitching with a grabby desire. “Maybe, maaaybe,” Avaron sang, and grabbing both her cheeks, spread them apart. “Have a little taste here? Drag me into your bed and have a good long slur—”

Nerg snorted and waved her hand as if to banish a bad spirit. “Fine, go! Go you, slut. I’ll break you in yet.”

“Aww,” Avaron whined, but let her cheeks go. Her heart fluttered at the word ‘slut’, a long-old delightfulness arising she hadn’t felt in years. Blowing a kiss to Nerg, she hurried out through the spring waters, leaving where she entered. With a spring in her step she retrieved her robe and rushed inside, feeling those yellow eyes raking her flesh every step of the way. Just at the door’s threshold she looked back and pried open her robe, flashing her tits with a smile. “Remember, any time!” she called out.

Nerg’s frustrated words turned into a nonsense noise, and Avaron fled inside.

*~*

Dinner that evening took place in a large, rectangular hall. Once it’d had a number of tables and chairs, but Avaron saw most of them had been stacked up or otherwise put away. The table they were to eat at sat in the room’s center, built around a firepit that currently had slabs of boar cooking over. Gwyneth already had her spot, wearing a loose-fitting kimono, and for the first time, showing her dirty-blonde hair. It curled the lower it went to her shoulders, offering a beautiful finish Avaron knew people would kill to have back on Earth.

Goodness, having someone as beautiful as Gwyneth suck her tenty dry! Her mind nearly left her skull before she caught it again.

At her approach, Gwyneth looked up, the firepit’s light casting her in a warm light. “Avaron!” she said, smiling, her ever present visor covering her eyes. “Tis almost ready.”

“It smells great,” Avaron said, her nose surprisingly cooperative. The rich taste of cooking meat and the acrid sharpness of smoke both encouraged her stomach to rumble. Hurriedly taking a seat at one of the padded, if somewhat flattened, cushions, she looked around. Their backpacks were nearby, some supplies hanging out—particularly spices and the like. “Is it just the boar, or …?”

“Tsu-sue-gumi,” Gwyneth said, tripping over the name, “said she has something to add. Rice, I think she called it? And some kind of sauce.”

Oh, steamed rice and boar sounded great. Avaron nodded. “I’m surprised she still has some.”

“There is a tiny garden in the back she can reach.”

“Ah. Say, that does give me a thought …”

“Speak thy mind.”

Avaron shifted, coming to lean on an elbow. “Is there someway for you to, I don’t know, cancel her curse?”

“Our minds think alike. I wondered as well.” Gwyneth took a moment to use a huge meat-fork to flip over a slab of boar meat on the grill. “Tis not impossible, but mine study of it is oddly difficult.”

“Why is that?”

“The lady’s curse is not on her. It would seem to be on—” Gwyneth pointed up “—the inn itself, and it chooses her, specifically.”

Avaron blinked. “Huh. Okay, is there something in the inn we can break? Dispell? I don’t know, throw holy water onto?”

Gwyneth giggled, an earnest, mirthful sound accompanied by a tiny snort. Her hand flew to her face at the sound, and Avaron stared, rather taken in by the suddenness of it all. “Oh, ehm. Tis possible; mine looking hath not revealed much yet.”

“… If it is not too much trouble,” Avaron started, taking on a serious voice, “it is something I’d like to deal with. Tsugumi shouldn’t be left to die alone in a place like this.”

No answer came immediately, Gwyneth staring at her all-the-while. For all her beauty, Avaron couldn’t help being a little unnerved—how did she see? And what did she see? It ever remained a mystery, yet somehow always reliable.

“Tis noble of thee,” Gwyneth said, nodding sagely for some reason. “Mine attentions will focus solely on it tonight.”

“T-thanks,” Avaron said sheepishly and scratched the back of her head. “I’d help but … no real power of my own.”

Gwyneth shook her head. “Thou have power, but tis yet to awaken. Trust in thine abilities.”

“I’m not exactly receiving divine guidance here,” Avaron remarked dryly. “Do you know what it is I should do?”

At that, Gwyneth looked down, almost bashful. In the firepit’s light, it became hard to see, but Avaron noticed it all the same—a blush spilling across her fair cheeks. The suddenness of it spoke all too much on its own, and Avaron’s throat became a little tight. “Wait, you’re serious. That? _That?_ ”

“Verily,” Gwyneth affirmed, hiding her mouth behind a hand. “Twas part of mine guidance to thee. Thy virility begets strength and power; thou must commit to it to grow.”

“I … guess. I kind of did already, a little.”

“Verily?”

“My level went from 1 to 2, uhh, after you—you know.”

An earnest smile overcame Gwyneth, and her hands folded together in a prayer. “Tis wonderful news! To progress a single level is most admirable.”

“… Is it?”

“Many spend years to do so. Only heroines or those of great gift progress so fast.”

“… Huh, okay. What’s the, I guess, max level?”

“Tis unclear; mine ears heard of levels exceeding 90. Some claim the goddesses alone can breach level 100. For many, they will spend their lives in levels 1 to 5.”

Avaron squinted, a fist curling under her chin while she thought. _This level system is a little whacky. It doesn’t give me absolutes in anything except the actual level counter. So if the world isn’t driven by a binary number system, everything is relative … why have levels then?_ In the logic of a game, it didn’t stack up. Being a real world, however, that much was to be expected. “Say, are there tales of those who are lower level defeating higher levels?”

“Quite so, many in fact. Level is not everything to one’s own strengths. Mine own level can be considered quite low, at level 4.”

“… Doesn’t that make you a little amazing already?”

Gwyneth bit her lip, and shyly looked away. “Thy flattery is unneeded,” she squeaked out, much to Avaron’s glowing warm smile at the sight. All at once, however, Gwyneth looked up, her embarrassment gone in an instant. The sharp change jarred Avaron herself into sitting up. “M-mine level is 5 now?” she said, confusedly. “But mine trials were not …”

Avaron coughed into her hand, a sudden realization slapping her upside the head. “T-that might be me,” she said, fingering her dress collar at Gwyneth’s blind stare. Eyes or not, that woman bored holes right into her.

“How?”

“A skill of mine, [Primal Infusion]. Or so it says, anyway.”

“How doth it work?”

Avaron mumbled under her breath.

“What did thou say?”

“By taking in my cum and milk,” Avaron said, fanning herself with a hand.

“O-oh.”

“Yeaaah. I wasn’t too certain what the effects of it might be.”

“T-to raise mine level in such a short time, tis truly wondrous …” Gwyneth said, descending into a mumble of her own. She sank into her own little world, staring at her clasped hands in that thoughtful way of hers.

Avaron meanwhile, lost herself staring at the slow cooking meat. _Alright so, I fuck women and they get stronger. That’s the vibe I’m getting here. Ho, boy, maybe I shouldn’t have brought back my college years in the spring there._ Not that she minded; regret was a hard thing to come by sometimes. Goodness, she had been such a slut back in those days—not that there was anything wrong. It just became very hard to find people to open up to when she went corporate. _Starting to kind of see why they turned me into a sex monster now,_ she mused with a wry smile. _Never really stopped being one, just never had a chance to again._

Her gaze slid over to Gwyneth, who perked up at the recognition. “Well, let’s put it aside for now,” Avaron said, waving it all away. “Now, about the path toward Shadowpeak …”

They went over the details again, trying to account for their detour to the inn. In the end, Gwyneth knew the route, Avaron simply made sure she had a straight idea on where to go. Their conversation ended up being interrupted by the hall’s shoji sliding open, accompanied by a cursing Nerg. The huge woman had to angle herself very awkwardly to get through the ‘normal people’ sized door, grabbing the frame and sort of crouching through. Behind her, a very amused Tsugumi carried a wooden tray, lined with several—dare Avaron say, sake?—bottles.

Nerg settled in a mighty thump at the dinner table, her wrappings barely at all concealing her modesty. In the very Japanese inn they sat in, Avaron couldn’t help comparing her to some kind of oni—horns and all, if not being red or blue. Those yellow eyes met hers, and she noticed that Nerg still had something of a rosy red blush to her face. A scent soon reached her nose, one through the cooking meat and smoke. Womanly pungent and filling, with a most curious hint of citrus and … flowers?

Tsugumi cut in, coming to kneel at the table and deposit the tray. “I see the food is almost ready. I shall retrieve the others now, as well.”

Avaron popped the green bottle’s cork and gave it a whiff, almost immediately coughing and pulling it away. “Whew! That’s sake alright! Awesome.”

Tsugumi stopped by the door with a sudden halt in her step—a hitch that otherwise would’ve been missed. Avaron hadn’t a moment to consider it before the hostess left, and the other two nagglingly asked her what ‘sake’ was.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Lukewarm Intrigue

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights – Cordial Acquittances

Nerg (???) (lv.??) – Tempted Lover


	6. Blooming Sakura Tree

_Life’s sudden trials come whether or not one is ready._

*~*

_I don’t think I can get drunk,_ Avaron thought with detached horror, staring up at her bedroom ceiling. Two dim candles put on a dancing show of shadows above her, distracting her eyes. _And that stuff knocked my socks off. Where’s the drunkenness? Hello? Body?_ Whether it was due to her inhuman nature or one of her skills, she hadn’t a clue. _I guess it’s a good thing but still …_

Ah, maybe she should go for a walk? Burn off some of dinner and tire out for bed at least. The thought weighed on her mind for a good long while until a knock came at the door. Avaron threw herself up into a sit and looked over. Through the thin paper of the shoji, a lilac glow outlined a familiar looking figure.

“Honored guest?” Tsugumi asked in a quiet, polite voice.

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” Avaron said, waving her hands for emphasis. “What is it?”

The shoji slid open, Tsugumi still in full dress. In one hand was her eerie candle, and beside her was a serving tray. Avaron spied another bottle of sake, and something else wrapped on a plate. The spider woman smiled, showing her fangs. “If this old hostess might partake in a visit?”

“Old?” Avaron echoed, scratching her head. “You would put the fairest maiden to shame, Tsugumi.”

Her six different eyes blinked in a rather disconnected way—though the shocked expression remained evident. Tsugumi looked away, hiding half her lower face behind a sleeve. “You flatter me, honored guest.”

“I mean it,” Avaron said quite seriously, but let it go with a smile. “Well, come in then, don’t sit out there in the cold.”

Tsugumi rose, picking up the tray. She shut the shoji behind her before shuffling in, the thump of her sock-covered feet loud in the nighttime quiet. Indeed, the rustling of fabric sounded loud too in Avaron’s ears as they both came to sit facing one another. A small gap in between them filled with the tray, and Tsugumi blew out her candle before setting it down. Unlike her more practiced kneeling sit, Avaron sufficed for crossing her legs.

Opening the sake bottle, Tsugumi went about pouring two cups. “I hope the honored guest is not _too_ full.”

“Please, just call me Avaron,” the tentradom said with a smile. “Or Ava, if you like.”

Two of her six eyes looked up from her task, a rather disconcerting ability. “Of course … Ava.”

A shiver crept right up the back of her head at hearing that, and Avaron hid it with a head scratch and a smile. _Goodness that voice is, ohh, it does work._ Rubbing her chin, she said, “Well, I can’t get drunk sadly, but I do quite like the taste.”

“Truly? Perhaps you simply need more?” Tsugumi wondered, setting the bottle down before offering a cup to Avaron, cradling it in both hands. In kind, Avaron took it daintily, as much in respect as to not spill anything.

In taking a sip, the cool but stinging taste of the sake washed over her mouth. A flowery undercurrent lined the nutty heartiness of it, mixed in with a third bit she couldn’t quite name. Her mind thought it spicy but that sounded horribly off the mark. Avaron shuddered on reflex and let out a satisfying, airless gasp when she swallowed. “Oh, this is quite rich!”

Tsugumi, finishing her own sip with a refined elegance, smirked afterward. “A selection from my top shelf, as you may understand.”

“Oh, my.” Avaron smiled knowingly and bowed her head politely. “I shall savor it deeply, but not as deep as your loveliness.”

For all her pompous acting when they first met, Tsugumi blushed quite freely! Her cheeks darkened with a bluish hint, not all that different from Avaron’s in a way. “Really, has the world outside become so bold?” she asked lightly. In a curious move, two of her arms hid her lower face, while the other two held her cup perfectly. “Such honesty even in my sacred springs …”

Avaron snorted, and almost did a spittake while mid-sip. Luckily for everyone, she caught herself before disaster struck. “Ah, ahem, you know about that?” she asked with a sheepish grin.

“As the keeper of the inn, it is my duty to know all that happens within.”

“F-fair enough!” Avaron laughed with a light awkwardness before glancing at Tsugumi. “It’s not too, erm, off-putting, is it?” For a long moment, Tsugumi stared without saying anything, then took a sip from her cup, emptying it.

“… No, it isn’t,” she said airily, inscrutable enough to still cause wonder. “But the heart only has so much room, does it not?”

“Love can arise in many forms. Ah, but the room in the heart is trickier. Here, let me—” she took the sake bottle before Tsugumi could refill it. Her body may be new, but the training wasn’t: a simple grip at the bottom with one hand, her other hand on the former’s, and tipping the whole bottle. Tsugumi’s eyes popped open, damn near afraid of spillage, but Avaron managed a simple, easy stream. At three-fourths full, she tipped it up again and gently placed it back on the tray.

“… Pouring for me, my, do you know what that means?” Tsugumi asked and took another sip.

“Pouring for yourself when I’m right here, I would think my hostess doesn’t want hospitality.”

“To know of that—who are you, truly?”

It wasn’t asked in fear or concern, but a bewildered wonder that made Avaron’s eyes twinkle. “Take a guess.”

“A summoned heroine?”

“Oh come on, at least play a little!” Avaron griped jokingly, but Tsugumi’s face took on a deadly seriousness all of a sudden.

“Truly?”

“… I hope it won’t ruin the mood if I say yes.”

Tsugumi shook her head, but sit her third-filled cup down on the tray. All four of her hands came together in her lap, lacing together over each other. “No, but among my last few guests was a group of heroines. If you are apart of a new summoning, I cannot imagine how long I have been trapped here.”

“The forest outside is pretty different from in here,” Avaron pointed out, feeling rather unhelpful about it. “But other than that, I can’t help much I’m afraid.”

Shaking her head, Tsugumi smiled politely—the sort someone with nothing else to offer did. “Thank you, it is no trouble. Please, let me offer you these renkon chips. They are not elegant, but …”

Avaron eyed the unwrapping food with intrigue, finding they were, indeed, lotus roots fried in a crispy batter! Her eyebrows shooting up, she accepted one from Tsugumi’s offering hands. A most curious, crunchy flavor filled her mouth on a bite, complimented by the root-like texture lingering still. _Mmm, missing something, but that’s only to be expected,_ she thought, wiping her oily lip. At the least, it tasted fresh and still warm from cooking. At Tsugumi’s uncertain expression, she smiled reassuringly. “It’s lovely. Another!”

“Oh! Yes.” Tsugumi smiled, and so Avaron ate and ate until the bundle in her hands emptied.

Yet, one more still remained.

Washing down the food with a fresh gulp of sake, Avaron let out a pleasant sigh. Patting the spot beside her, she looked sharply at Tsugumi, who remained in her spot. “Well? Get over here, my fair lady.”

Smiling at that, Tsugumi shuffled over on her knees. She moved to sit back properly, but Avaron looped an arm around her waist, and yanked her sideways. The spider woman chirped in surprise, finding herself half-laying on the ground, half-laying on Avaron’s lap. All six eyes blinked wildly, her shapely, straight-cut hair splaying out everywhere.

“Yeah, there we go!” Avaron laughed and smiled, patting Tsugumi’s thigh. “Take it easy, Tsu. You don’t mind that, right?”

“N-no,” Tsugumi mumbled, one pair of hands already covering her blushing face. The other pair fidgeted down lower, twiddling her thumbs. “It is not unpleasant.”

“Good!” And so Avaron retrieved the other bundle of renkon chips, unfolding it herself. The two highest eyes on Tsugumi’s face watched, and her hands slowly moved away. All six soon locked onto one chip being held out, Avaron angling straight toward her mouth. “Come on, have some!”

“B-but they are for—mhff!” a crunch followed, Tsugumi hurriedly inhaling the whole chip. Her eyes peeled in faux-annoyance as she chewed and chewed before swallowing. “I made them for you!” she chirped out angrily.

“And I love them,” Avaron cooed back, making Tsugumi be taken back with surprise. “So have some of them too.”

The spider woman pouted, puffing her cheeks up even when she still accepted another crispy chip. Avaron giggled at the sight, which only made Tsugumi pout more. A few more chips later and Avaron set the empty bundle down. She laid a hand on Tsugumi’s head, giving it a nice, long stroke down her scalp. Free of unsightly oils and residue, but lacking in care now that she felt along the woman’s hair. An unfortunate result of circumstance, yet admirable how elegant she kept herself. Above all, however, it had the airy softness she thought it too—a fineness pure and difficult to obtain. “Oh, my, how nice,” she said with a small smile. “Your hair is wonderful; I could pet it all night.”

“Av—haa—Ava is truly unfair!” Tsugumi complained, frowning and burying her face into Avaron’s belly. Back and forth she smothered herself, a rather ticklish sensation that made Avaron laugh earnestly. Just a little, Tsugumi’s prim and proper face cracked and showed her inner self. She kept petting all the same, raking her nails lightly along the spider woman’s scalp. Frustrated little sounds escaped her, an odd mix of coos and angry grunting. “I’m supposed to have my customer’s head in my lap!”

“Oh, do you hate it that much?”

Tsugumi stilled in an instant, and Avaron spied all four of her hands poking their index fingers together sheepishly.

“N-no …”

“Won’t you please your customer with this nice service, then?”

“V-very well …”

_This, too, is quite nice,_ Avaron mused, sitting back and enjoying the petting. Guiding the fingers one way, then the other, feeling the strands of hair brush alongside, and the hardy scalp underneath. All of it to make Tsugumi squirm and coo, a pleasant gift to one so trapped. A scent, however, started to reach her nose—a pungent womanliness, caked in flowers and citrus. It had a lovely zing to it, something that really woke her up the more she breathed in. At the same time, she heard Tsugumi take in deeper, lung-filling breaths as well.

“Ava’s scent is … quite warm …” she whispered in a husky, throaty voice. Tsugumi nuzzled in again, her face angled more _downward_ and _into_ Avaron’s lap.

“Oh? Like it, do you?”

“Mmm,” came the guttural, throaty moan. “So warm …”

A hand crept up on Avaron’s butt, clawing at the smooth fabric for purchase. _Oh dear,_ she thought with a gay smile. If Tsugumi was starting to feel it, _she_ certainly was. That distinct tightness in her belly coiled awake, and her whole body shuddered. The latent desire kicked off with a sudden, sharp prickle of hair and a shiver of skin. It felt odd, in its own way, how distinctly it shifted from ‘lovely fun’ to ‘pin her down and fuck her’. The urge kept getting stronger over time, a rather concerning detail.

She hadn’t a moment to consider her wandering thoughts. Tsugumi grabbed the back of her dress, then pushed herself up with her other three hands. Half-dragging Avaron into her, their faces came nose-to-nose, Tsugumi’s round pupils wide as saucers, her mouth parted with tiny panting breaths. “F-forgive me, honored guest,” she whispered, licking her lips. “You are too beautiful for me to resist!”

“Hm-mmph?!” Avaron’s words disappeared in the hot press of Tsugumi’s mouth to her own. In spite of her chitinous appearance, her plump lips molded softly against hers, a tasty flavor of lipstick following. Avaron hadn’t a moment to respond under Tsugumi’s sucking kisses, desperately pulling, pushing, and molding to her own. Too fast—much too fast. She grabbed the back of the woman’s head, drawing a strong, paralyzing moan of surprise. “I’m not going anywhere,” Avaron whispered, drawing six lust-widened eyes to her own. “Enjoy it.”

Not that she fared much better—goodness, her heart already pounded in her chest. Tsugumi’s little whine of need made her ears perk, and the scent of _desire_ clouded the air far, far stronger than anything before. She all-but-lunged in, capturing the regal hostess’ lips herself, taking in that cherry-like taste of lipstick. One hand on her head, the other went to her lower back, pulling her in flush and close. Four different arms wrapped around her in kind, two around her shoulders, two around her own back.

“Mmm!” Tsugumi moaned with such delighted joy, shuddering noticeably.

“Mm?” Avaron hummed back and smirked. Feeling a little bold, she snuck her tongue out, giving those lipstick-covered lips a tasting lick. Tsugumi twitched, her hands grabbing fistfuls of Avaron’s sleeping clothes. _Always a bit tricky figuring out who likes ton-nngguee?!_

Her first move met a counter of Tsugumi’s own probing lick swiping across her lips. Her inhuman tongue felt far different from Nerg’s, or any human woman she remembered kissing before. _What is this?_ she thought, utterly bewildered by the parallel tasting. Nor could she quite just pull away either and be rude! _Only one thing to do, then!_

Opening wide as an invitation, she slurped up Tsugumi’s strange tongue. The hostess moaned with a surprised tone, but their tongues clashed together in a wet, muted smack. Avaron couldn’t help her own surprised jolt at the queer sensation of soft-and-hardness. A valley down the center, flanked on either side bow ridges and rows that felt like tiny, hooked-pyramids. They flexed and rolled, the whole maneuver one to suck her tongue in deeper and massage it in an undulating motion. Her whole mouth salivated, a leaping rise in pleasure so great her jaw started twitching.

Wait, something wasn’t right.

Avaron tried separating, but Tsugumi’s hold only tightened. The arms around her neck became hands holding her head, locking her in place. A pressure built in her chest, eerily familiar enough Avaron _knew_ what was coming. “Hmmph? Mpmhfhf?!” she tried speaking, uselessly mumbling and moaning. Tsugumi hummed back in tune, hopelessly pleased with how satisfied she sounded. Avaron twitched, her eyes going cross-eyed as an entirely _new sensation_ bubbled up her throat. A gurgling squelch followed, her own tongue bloating inside her mouth.

There was only one way what was coming would go!

Grabbing Tsugumi’s head hard, she thrust her tongue into the spider woman’s drooling mouth. The rush of heat and the surprised squeal that followed really just _did it_ for her. Convulsing with a delirious, head-fogging ecstasy, Avaron’s tentacle-like tongue bulged from the big, great globs traveling up. Creamy, mouth-watering cum pumped out, one throat throbbing pulse at a time. Tsugumi quickly filled up, her six eyes opening with genuine shock. Yet, rather than let go, she grabbed even harder! A sucking followed a big, deep gulp right down her throat.

Avaron, all the while, looked stupid in the face, her orgasm-addled mind a haze of heat and sweet, cum-pumping relief.

Whether there was less, or Tsugumi possessed far more skilled than Gwyneth, not a drop spilled out. Each of those four hands kneaded and clawed, her lithe fingers surprisingly strong. Strong enough that a tearing sound filled the air, and air met Avaron’s backside. Whether intentional or not, Tsugumi tore open the night clothes right down the middle—the scraps only hanging on by the sleeves. All-too-quickly, Avaron’s sensibilities returned, her tongue-tentacle sputtering dry with a few hearty, twitching spasms. She pulled her head back, a curious resistance followed: Tsugumi greedily clamping her lips on the thing!

And, its X-shaped arrow-head seemed caught on her fangs.

A tug-of-war followed, Avaron trying to break free and Tsugumi trying to suck her back in again. Their struggling sent them rocking, and Tsugumi pushed Avaron into the flat bed behind her. In that brief moment, however, she gasped and her mouth opened _just enough_ for Avaron to break free. In an audible, sticky slurp the plasma-blue tentacle withdrew hurriedly, disappearing back into Avaron’s throat. Now, Tsugumi loomed over the tentradom, her six eyes wide, her pupils alight with a heart-shaped pink glow to them.

_W-what is that?_ Avaron wondered in her first, coherent thought. Her belly took that moment to _churn_ , and her wet pussy throbbed with desire. Far stronger than even the near-week long pants-blasting wait she endured, in fact. A soft, confused moan slipped out, an all-too-keen awareness of her big tenty squirming out of her. “H-Hold on, Tsu!” she gasped out, and the spider woman smiled.

“Dearest customer, such a delicious treat, how can I repay you?” Tsugumi gushed, smiling large enough her spidery-fangs flexed out. They rubbed one another with a drooling anticipation, a rather frightening sight that only invigorated Avaron for some reason. “That thick, smooth cream, ohh, what was it? I—want—more!” she gushed in a throaty purr, leaning down until their faces squished together. Not quite a kiss, but her hot, panting breaths blew right up Avaron’s nose. The tentradom shuddered at the scent, a pure cocktail of hormones that electrified her whole body. “Won’t you share it with me again? I’ll do _anything you want …_ ”

Oh, her tenty was out now! Covered in pussy juice and glistening, its arrow-head pulsed and bulged in rhythm to Avaron’s thundering heart. Worse, she _knew_ what it wanted. A part of her acting as it wished, in a way she knew she wanted it to. It twisted in the air, searching for a moment, before bending backwards, aiming squarely at Tsugumi’s covered butt. With a wet plap-smack it landed squarely in between them, pushing frustratingly against her covered rear. The spider woman gasped, a cooing moan escaping before she looked behind herself.

“My dearest customer! What is that?” she asked, her voice full of desire rather than concern.

“A big, fucking tentacle is what,” Avaron gasped out, clenching the bedsheets in her fists. “Tsu, be careful!”

“Why must I?” Tsugumi asked dryly, looking over just enough to convey her annoyance. She certainly could pull out a bratty attitude when she wanted to!

“Because I—ahh—I cannot really control myself!” Avaron whined, her hips squirming from side-to-side. Her tenty, all the while, kept slapping Tsugumi’s butt, seeking entry. “You don’t, mmm, you don’t want to-ooo do something regrettable, right?”

“Regrettable, hmm?” Tsugumi smiled and leaned in. Such a posture on her knees all but left her butt _jutting out_ in the air, her face down and beside Avaron’s. “There’s nothing to regret by helping my customer enjoy their stay, is there?”

“I-I’m serious!” Avaron chirped, sweating with more than just nervousness. Pushing herself up, Avaron quickly found herself pushed down again, two of Tsugumi’s arms pinning her by the wrists.

“I am too,” Tsugumi returned, her voice darkening with her narrowed eyes. Then it broke with a lewd smile, and Avaron saw her two other hands. They turned back around, and ever so slowly hitched her dress up. Clawing up her thighs, then pulling over her small, if well-defined butt, before finally stopping all bundled up on her lower back. The plasma-blue tenty smacked against her butt then with a wet slap, and both women jolted. “Ohh, customer, it is quite big, isn’t it!”

_Don’t sound too happy!_ Avaron wanted to say, too busy clenching her teeth in a grunting exhale. Goodness she could _feel_ it, that hot spot, oozing with such wonderful scent. It screamed in her mind everything she’d ever wanted to know, willfully or not. Fertility; receptiveness; how _gushingly wet_ it was. She didn’t need to look to know Tsugumi had to be soaked, dripping in rivets with arousal. How much was her own compared to that creamy cum she pumped into her moments ago? “Ohh, fine! Fine!” she barked out before another slap of her tenty jolted her. “You want it?! Take it then!”

Riiip. Something tore open behind Tsugumi, and the shreds of her panties left with her other two hands. “I intend to,” she purred and kissed Avaron’s cheek in a full, lip-popping smack. Then again, and again, and again. “I’m ready for you, most honored Ava. Come on i—iiiinnn!” her words turned to long, low keen when Avaron’s tenty _brushed by_. It plunged on target and missed, running its whole length down Tsugumi’s drenched pussy. Lip-to-clit it dragged, slickening itself with her wanton desire. “Oh! Ohhh, oh you missed!” Tsugumi complained, a bit of her shrill voice breaking in. “I’m right here and you missed!”

Nascent pride intermixed with determination; Avaron stared squarely into two of Tsugumi’s six eyes. A confluence of mind, body, and spirit aligned then—her tenty no longer some rampaging beast, but an extension of herself. It curled back, poised with the grace of a viper. Then and there, compelled with a single fucking goal, it lunged forward, plunging head-first into Tsugumi’s aroused pussy. The regal hostess’ cocky demeanor disappeared in a big mouthed, silent O-shape, her whole back arching. Her vagina bulged, contouring to the ridged, twisting and writing shape of Avaron’s tenty just a little—a beguiling sight to how much _was_ in her.

Avaron gurgled, her eyes rolling back at the sheer, overwhelming feeling of _pussy_ around her tenty. Constricting, pulsing, gripping and pulling, so many different sensations changing every other heartbeat. Her arrow-headed tip flared when Tsugumi moved, refusing with all its power any sort of budging at all. The hostess herself, however, about collapsed on Avaron’s chest, her eyes dumb-struck. Indeed, perhaps that tentacle kept her butt in the air all on its own now. Avaron pushed her hips upward, driving it _deeper_ , and they both moaned in a delirious unison.

“Big! Big, big thing,” Tsugumi muttered incoherently, her vice-grip slackening noticeably. Avaron wrenched her hands free, flying down to grab the spider woman’s petite rear, one whole cheek in each palm. She barely reacted at all, only a long, ambiguous moan coming with her lazy-looking eyes. “H-hey …”

Avaron pulled her downward, their hips met in a messy, wet-smack of flesh and drenched cloth, the crown of their pussies a hair’s breadth from touching. An exhilarating rush shot through her at the sudden adjustment, a clarity of mind only pure adrenaline brought. “I warned you!” she bit out, meeting Tsugumi’s lust-stricken face. “Now I’m gonna, I’m gonna—ohh, don’t squirm like that!”

Tsugumi, all the while, moved her hips up and down, trying to get _more_ deeper into her. “Please,” she whispered, before slurping up her own drool with that ribbed tongue of hers. “Please, don’t stop.”

“There’ll—there’ll be, ohh, consssequences!” Avaron said, finding words so damningly difficult to say. “Big ones!”

“I don’t caaare!” Tsugumi whined, burying her face into Avaron’s neck. Her tongue lashed out, licking in a fast, tasting swipe. “Let me have this, it’s been so long!”

She tried, she really did—but Tsugumi’s pleading and her grating hips all but blew away her reservations. Avaron pushed her hips up, but her tenty didn’t need at all, muscular thing it was. Thrusting in deeper, Tsugumi let out a sharp, keening moan, turning into a staggered pant when it started _dragging out_. With its arrow-head constricting just enough to be let out, it pulled all the way to her entrance, the barest hint of it beginning to show. Avaron squeezed Tsugumi’s wondrous little butt, gripping tight as she plunged in _deep_ again.

Goodness the wet, squelching comfort of a pussy blew her mind away! A whole new world of sensation, guided by the strange tentacle that felt more like a super-clitoris than anything else. Her whole body moved almost on its own, pushing against Tsugumi in a mating dance of sweat-slickened skin and pussies drenched in juice. Avaron and Tsugumi panted and moaned, pressing their cheeks together as one sucked in the scent of the other. The scraps of Avaron’s night clothes and Tsugumi’s dress rattled and loosened, held on by the barest of holds in their rampant, hip-smacking fervor.

“You’re—so—fucking—sexy,” Avaron grunted out before latching her mouth on Tsugumi’s neck. She sucked and sucked, and all four of Tsugumi’s hands flew to Avaron’s neck. They kneaded and clawed, ostensibly to pull her way, but only massaging her so approvingly. Parting with a sucking pop, Avaron licked up her own spit and Tsugumi’s sweat, traveling up and to the rounded, curved if recessed ear that awaited above. “Great taste, miss hostess,” she breathed out and smirked at Tsugumi’s gurgling, embarrassed noise. “You really give the best service!”

“Oh! Oh, oh—you! You!” Tsugumi lust-addled eyes came upon her, creasing with a frown even as the hearts in them throbbed. She pushed Avaron back into the bed and sat up herself; a move that really just sent the tentacle thrusting in her as deep as it could go. They both shuddered, Avaron most of all left in a twitching, mouth-gaping spasm. “I—I am the owner of this inn!” Tsugumi growled, grabbing onto her dress with all four hands. “Dear customer must relax and—aaand allow me to work!”

Whether tearing it off or actually taking it off, Tsugumi’s dress came flying free, leaving her lilac-skinned nudity on display. Avaron drank in the sight of her finely small, rounded breasts, bouncing up and down with the hip-fucking strokes she did. One hand went to her pussy, stroking her spread lips and swollen clitoris; two came to her breasts, cupping them and tweaking her dark, dark nipples. The last pulled her hair into order, or tried to, at least.

Really, it looked like she just wanted to bounce on Avaron’s fat tentacle than anything else!

The new angle and the harder, determined grating of Tsugumi’s hips spelled a disastrous combination. However deep she had been before, Avaron felt even more of her tentacle wrapped up in that _premium-grade_ pussy. Constricting; squeezing, pulling her in deeper. Something hardy met the tip of her tenty, a solid sort of barrier that sent a shock through both of them. “Oh, oh my goddesses!” Avaron hissed out, seeing sparkling stars and lights pop into her vision. Every thrusting bump made her jolt on the bedding, her tentacle-tongue lolling out along while her eyes went stupid. Tsugumi, all the while, chirped and twittered, working her hips _harder_ and _harder._ “Tsu!” Avaron croaked out. “Oh, Tsu, keep going!”

“Yes!” Tsugumi returned, smiling deliriously. “Oh, yes, dear customer! Please, pleaseee!”

A contorting, spasming sensation shot through Avaron, the proverbial dam cracking. Eclipsing all two times before she’d blown her load, Avaron felt like her whole tentacle bulge, filling every little spot it could in Tsugumi’s sopping pussy. Then, the strangest thing happened.

A choice appeared in her mind; not really an info-screen, but an acute, utterly clear reasoning.

Babies, or drones?

Avaron went cross-eyed as her body spasmed, the mind-shattering beginnings of orgasm.

Babies she knew what would happen; more children like their dear mother.

Drones, they would serve her; the extensions of the Hive.

Knowing the perils of the former, Avaron chose the latter.

And thus, her mind swept away, her hips rising one last time to smack the underside of Tsugumi’s thighs. Her hands flew down, grabbing the spider woman by the hips, and her tentacle _came_. A great rush of creamy cum shot up, one heaping bulge at a time. More than that, a small gelatin ball accompanied each pulse, firing up the whole length and straight into Tsugumi’s spasming pussy. The hostess shook and trembled, her own hips rocking with orgasmic spasms, unaware of the egg-carrying bulges traveling up into her. Or maybe she was, feeling each bulge inside her, her own traitorous pussy gulping them.

The tip of Avaron’s tentacle molded to the entrance of Tsugumi’s womb, giving it a deep, unrelenting kiss. A little chemical signaling and tentradom cum helped to open it up, relaxing the entrance for its new filling. Thus, the first egg Avaron laid in another woman found its home, rising on a gush of nutritious, sperm-free cum. Then the second, then the third; one after the other, Avaron utterly out of her mind in a land of bliss. Tsugumi, still unfortunately rather mortal, _felt_ the new residents taking home in her. One of her hands came over her belly, feeling the bumpy shapes growing and growing with her expanding stomach.

Her tongue lolled out, twitching with every smile she made. A predator, happy and satisfied beyond compare, her whole body shuddering with orgasm after orgasm. The bubbly-rounded bumps in her growing belly mellowed out, smoothing to a pregnant bump as cum filled every empty space it could. Neither fast nor outrageously deforming, by the end when Avaron’s tenty started spasming dry, one might call her two months pregnant. Her egg-filled womb jutted out, two of her hands coming underneath in a loving, motherly support. Thus the rather impressive sight of a nearly unconscious Tsugumi, held up by a tentacle in her pussy and her own locked legs.

Avaron came to her senses first, a primordial warning arising in her mind. More by instinct than thought, she dragged Tsugumi into her arms, laying the new-mother comfortably sideways. The two cuddled together, the after-cum of Avaron’s great deposit starting to spurt out. Her tenty squirmed and retreated, gradually pulling out with a gush not sealed in Tsugumi’s packed womb. The sticky mess gooped and drooled out of her pussy, splattering on Avaron underneath, binding the two in strands of their sticky love.

Huffing and panting, they laid there together, Avaron’s arms wrapped around Tsugumi, and Tsugumi grabbing any part she could hold onto. “Oh, oh my,” Avaron wheezed out, coming into a sort of awareness what had just happened. “You’re so good, Tsu.”

“Mmm, thank you,” Tsugumi purred out, utterly pleased. “Dear Ava, what is this in my belly?”

“Uhh …” Avaron hummed dumbly, suddenly and acutely aware of what happened. “… Congratulations?”

Tsugumi looked up, all six eyes peeled in a narrow look. One hand came to rest on Avaron’s neck, while another went to the splayed open folds in front of her chest. “What oh what does my customer mean?”

There really wasn’t an elegant way to say what needed to be said, was there? Avaron scratched at her sweaty head. “You’re gonna be a mommy.”

“Oh, good.”

“… Good?” Avaron echoed, confused.

Tsugumi giggled and, in a laborious heave, brought herself up. With her hands moving deftly, she pried open Avaron’s night clothes, forcing them off of her in an awkward shimmying of body parts. A hand went to her mouth, and Tsugumi hid her salacious smile. “Dearest customer, you will take responsibility, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

The flatness of her immediate response made Tsugumi stop. Then, all six of her eyes lit up, a wondrously joyful smile spreading as all four hands clasped together. “R-really?”

Avaron blushed at the genuine sight and looked away bashfully. “I mean, as long as you want me. There’s no—ahh?!” she gasped out in surprise, a sudden if soft slap across her tit jolting her. Avaron looked back at a deviously smiling Tsugumi, staring at her in a way that made her hair perk up. Thin, slitted eyes, full of an erotic energy that left the safety of her nakedness in question.

“I shall keep you, then. As it only proper, for the wonderful life you’ve given me,” Tsugumi said, a hand rubbing her bulging belly. “I expect you to take care of me, Ava.”

_Bound to happen eventually, right?_ Avaron wondered with a pleasant resignation. She held out her hands, taking hold of two of Tsugumi’s. “I will, I promise.”

“Such an honorable woman … dear customer, you will not mind if I wish to be greedy?”

“… With what?”

Smiling ever deviously, Tsugumi shuffled down, two hands pushing Avaron’s legs open at the knees. The other two helped position her, precariously on all fours, staring at Avaron’s still-drenched pussy. Her ribbed, flexing tongue poked out, curling with an threatening lick of Tsugumi’s lips. “Tasting dear customer’s prized goods.”

“Oh. Ohhh.”

Goodness what was that tongue going to do _down there?_ Shivering at the mere thought, Avaron reached down, a little surprised how wet she honestly felt. Getting a bit of a grip proved hard, but she spread herself open, feeling all too hot under Tsugumi’s piercing gaze. “Please, if you, erm, wouldn’t mind …”

The presence of a solid head between her legs arrived suddenly, accompanied by a wet, slurping lick. Avaron shuddered and squeaked, too unprepared for it. That _ribbed_ and _flexing_ tongue slapped onto one of her lips, dragging upward with such a queer, pleasurable sensation she couldn’t help moaning softy. Familiar, yet different, and she hadn’t a chance to get used to it! It swept up, then down, accompanied by a slurping gulp and a throaty swallow. She half-expected her nerves to be frayed, but even more surprising was how fresh she yet felt!

It wasn’t just enough for her tenty to be satisfied blasting its cum, her pussy needed its loving too, seemingly.

“P-please, oh goddesses, oh fuck I need it,” Avaron begged, her hips shuddering and desperately humping Tsugumi’s devious tongue. Worse was how _familiar_ the spider woman moved, keeping her at distance, moving in when she fell, and licking just every spot the perfect way. Goodness she felt herself _gush_ with wetness, far more than she ever did back on Earth. Avaron huffed and panted, her throat tightening with a keening moan when Tsugumi kissed her pussy. One deep, forceful kiss that pushed in, laying claim on a solid spot. One clean, slippery place to leave a mark of her own.

Avaron shuddered at the thought of a lipstick-imprint on _her_ of all people. She looked down, and Tsugumi’s smirking eyes told her all she needed to know how intentional it was.

Then the tongue came, plunging inside of her in one long, smooth motion. Avaron went crosseyed at the _gayest_ feeling of that ribbed tongue doing its work. Bump-after-bump-after-bump into her, warm and hot and _squirming everywhere it pleased_. “Oh, Tsu!” she hissed out, spreading her own knees open in such eager openness. “F-fuck your tongue is incredible!”

“Mm-hmm,” Tsugumi hummed knowingly. Not quite thrusting, she moved with a deft purpose, exploring as much as pleasuring. With a sucking gulp she pulled it out, licking the gushing juices in quick, hungry laps. Avaron’s warmly blue, plasma-colored lips quivered under the attention, twitching with her womanly desires. Once cleaned again, Tsugumi ventured upward, her quaint mouth wrapping around Avaron’s whole clitoral area. The tentradom’s eyes bugged open, an _entirely familiar_ , knee-shaking surge of pleasure shooting right up her spine. She let out a grand exhale, her hips shuddering as Tsugumi’s soft mouth kissed and sucked.

Not quite touching, but oh so _enveloping_.

Then the fingers came, two in total, rubbing her quivering pussy lips.

_You’re fucking good!_ Avaron realized, Tsugumi’s technique far too refined to be accidental. A long, deep moan let out at those fingers slipping inward, a tiny, sucky-sucking of Tsugumi’s lips accompanying them. Avaron’s hips jumped on their own accord, rising to her new wife’s hungry ministrations. Reaching down with a hand, she lightly grasped Tsugumi’s head, feeling her sweaty, yet oddly smooth and fine-feeling hair. The spider woman looked up for a moment, her head barely moving with how her two top eyes saw so easily. Pulling back with a quiet pop, a shock of cool air washed over her clitoral area, almost painfully cognizant of those lips leaving.

“Oh?” the regal lady asked, lips peeling in a smile, her fingers still moving in and out, slowly curling and thrusting. Not to please; certainly to tease!

“Please, holy shit, you’re so good!” Avaron begged, biting the knuckles of her free hand. “Do it more!”

Tsugumi chuckled and smiled, her lips glistening with all sorts of juices and sticky cum. “Dear customer, relax, and let me service you.”

She couldn’t relax if a gun was against her head! Avaron nonetheless nodded and laid back, almost chirping at the return of that _scandalous_ mouth. It moved with purpose, a more certain speed and attention. Wet, sucking slurps and finger-banging squelches followed, an ear-clouding cacophony that danced with the hazy fog building up. Moaning and gasping, Avaron rolled her helps, desperate as her nerves came to life. A different sort of tension in her belly grew, gripping with a powerful need that she knew all too well. Humping her wife’s face, the tongue swept and swirled around her clit, catalyzing every hot fiber in her body.

“Oh, oh fuck!” Avaron squealed, her thighs clenching, belly tightening, and hips shaking as a cum blasting orgasm crashed out of her! The clear, but just as delicious syrup followed every shuddering pulse of her orgasm, splurting into Tsugumi’s waiting maw. Lick after lick, she broke to seal the two together in a lewd kiss, gulping everything that came out. Oh, how happy that made Avaron, feeding her wife just as she should! The thought of it struck hard in the orgasmic haze, a delirious pleasure that made her smile like an idiot.

She pulled Tsugumi’s hair a little harder, riding her slurping and licking tongue for all they were worth. Her wife _had_ to drink everything! Not one drop, she had to fill right up! When it seemed Tsugumi might pull away, Avaron—all cumming instinct by then—locked a leg around her head, and held her tightly in place. Turning to the side, she all but deadlocked Tsugumi in a hold, hips spasming and rocking with an incredibly long orgasm. Her whole belly heaved, her pussy gushing into Tsugumi’s unending hungry laps.

How long they remained, no one could say.

By the time Avaron finally eased up, unlocking her legs, Tsugumi’s once regal face had been splattered in sweet, translucent cum. Her own six eyes were in varying states of closed or rolled backwards, the lady herself in a cum-addled stupor. Neither was curtained who moved where or when, but they cuddled up together, Tsugumi burrowing her face into Avaron’s neck. The bump of her belly kept them from tightly embracing, but nonetheless their legs intertwined and their breasts kissed, getting to know one another.

Breathing in, and breathing out.

They drank the other’s scent, squirming and groping each other in a lazy, reassuring way.

Had tiredness finally settled in? Avaron couldn’t even think straight about sleeping anymore.

Nor, it seemed, was her tenty done. The churning of her belly followed the distending of the tentacle, once more slipping out. It whipped around, scenting the air before honing in on Tsugumi’s engorged, deeply flushed pussy. Slithering into the gap between her thighs, it sank in lower before curling, and then worming its way inside her once again. The lady let out a long, surprised moan, her eyes blinking awake at the intrusion. They _shot_ open at the first great, earnest plunge it took into her, reaching an all-too familiar depth.

“You are insatiable,” Tsugumi gasped out before biting her lip, killing the wanton noise arising in her throat.

“And you are beautiful,” Avaron fired back and smiled. “Shouldn’t I indulge in it?” Without waiting, and feeling renewed already, she sat upward. It became Tsugumi’s turn on her back, her legs spread open. One might even call it missionary after a fashion, their womanhoods connected through Avaron’s thrusting tentacle. She grabbed Tsugumi by the ankles, using her own legs for leverage. _A bit different from using a strapon but! So much fucking better!_

“Dear customer,” Tsugumi gasped, clawing at the bedding underneath her. “Use my body to slake your desires! However you wish,” she said, the last bit coming as a purr. Two of her hands came to her bulging belly, rubbing over in a way that _thrilled_ Avaron to see. Already the pinnacle of a regal beauty, and fucked full of brooding eggs; oh the thought tickled some primal part of her brain.

Smiling, Avaron laid a hand ontop of Tsugumi’s, feeling her pregnant belly with her. “Oh, Tsu, it’s not just your body I want.”

All six eyes blinked independently, confused.

“It’s you.”

“O-oh! Oh! Yes, please!” Tsugumi gushed, smiling with her fangs proudly on display. Such a wide, earnest look might’ve been scarier a while ago; now, it only stirred Avaron to really make use of her tentacle properly.

Needless to say, the two had wild sex the rest of the night. By the end of it, Avaron’s bedroom looked more like a warzone with how much cum she’d ended up pumping out, and Tsugumi became utterly drenched _and_ bloated from how she kept drinking it whenever she could. Before finally succumbing to sleep, a curious Avaron opened up the relationships part of the info-screen again.

[Tsugumi Silkweave has agreed to become a breeding mate! She is your first party member; she will receive benefits. Continue to mate with her and feed her cum to improve your relationship.]

[Congratulations, you have impregnated her with eggs! They will gestate and reach laying status in [2] months. They will require an additional [2] months to hatch.]

[Tsugumi Silkweave. Current relationship: Brood Mother (lv.1). She desires companionship and love; once betrayed by friends, she shut her heart. Left to look after the family inn, she was punished for her transgressions and imprisoned with a curse. Now she is hopeful of a new future that she may not be alone in.]

Avaron stared at the wall of information, before shutting it and closing her eyes. _I’ll deal with it tomorrow,_ was her last thought before falling unconscious.

Although tomorrow was two hours away with how late they stayed up.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Lukewarm Intrigue

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Nerg (???) (lv.??) – Tempted Lover

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)


	7. Coming to Terms

_Understanding and acceptance are two things._

*~*

Avaron stared at the table in front of her, face set in a dim-eyed daze. Dressed as she was in the ramshackle traveler’s attire Gwyneth got for her, one might think she hadn’t had a wink of sleep. She did, ostensibly. Her mind couldn’t help wandering to the rather _involved_ exercise that had gone on. No, no, rather than be content, Tsugumi found a second wind—then a third, then a fourth. She wasn’t at all certain who would give out in the end.

The bed probably counted as first out, being nearly plastered in their collective cum. Mostly hers, but some of Tsugumi’s too. Waking up and extracting themselves out of that web-work of stickiness woke her up better than any cup of coffee could.

It also made her check out of reality completely.

_I can’t believe I did that,_ Avaron wondered with distant, unearthly detachment from herself. _Seriously, not even one week and I already knocked someone up. Or two weeks, actually …_

Someone she met on the same day, nonetheless.

She might’ve been a bit of a slut in her younger years, but that still sounded a bit absurd to her. Avaron started rubbing her temples again, trying to find comfort in the numbing pressure. Of course it all now meant she had someone to earnestly take care of—as well as a bundle of little ones coming as well. _Babies or drones? What?_ she thought exasperated. The differences between the two stood clearly in her own mind, but the _understanding_ of why was mysteriously absent. Babies were children; drones were drones.

In some sci-fi sense, the drones existed to serve her; babies existed to spread the hive.

_How this information just pops up out of nowhere is really pissing me off. Fuck, do I really have to wait around to see what happens?_ Her kind were hated and she had no one to turn to, bottom line. Unless the game-like interface told her something she was stuck slapping her head against a wall. Avaron inhaled through her nose and slowly, slowly exhaled.

_Nothing to be done, nothing to be done …_ she thought again and again, laying her nerves to rest.

The sound of a door sliding open practically slid her fears beside her as well. Avaron frightfully peeked over her shoulder, spying Gwyneth and a bouncy-stepped Tsugumi entering the room. Not a hint of a mess to be seen on her; even her belly bump hid well beneath her fine dress, somehow. She spied the tray Gwyneth carried and the plates of modest food upon it. _Ah, right, breakfast._

Gwyneth took to a spot on her left, while Tsugumi sat on the right. The spider hostess smiled at seeing her, far more glowingly warm than the first time they’d met. Avaron met it with a bashful smile and scratch of her own hair, all to hide her unease. “Breakfast smells great,” she offered meekly.

“A touch more difficult than I’m used to,” Tsugumi enthused slyly, hiding her mouth behind her sleeve. “But kind Gwyneth helped me.”

“Eh?” Avaron chirped and hurriedly looked over. Gwyneth, her eyes ever hidden behind a visor, was impossible to read. “That’s kind of you.”

“Verily, I did not expect to caretake another companion so soon.”

_Wait …_ Avaron looked from Gwyneth to Tsugumi, a hair’s breadth from breaking out in a nervous sweat. It is not as if she could hide what happened, but wasn’t all of this a little too quick? Tsugumi started dishing out the plates and arraying the table, bumping herself into Avaron. Then, rather pointedly, pressing in against her, almost rubbing against the tentradom. Not quite blatantly but Avaron felt the sheer, overwhelming energy emanating from the hostess.

Goodness, she could _smell_ the arousal clearer than the food itself. A heavenly beacon that dulled the agonized indecision in her mind, with all the comfort of something good and wholesome. Not quite like walking into a bakery of fresh bread, it was a little too stimulating to be that. Gwyneth soon pressed in against her other side, all but _actually_ rubbing herself against Avaron. Together, the two women worked on setting food and laying utensils, rubbing against Avaron and squishing her in a sandwich of erotic pheromones and feminine power.

Avaron’s eyes wavered, swirls almost appearing at the heady aroma and tempting touches. _I—I don’t have a refractory period at all do I?_ she thought, almost crying in incredulity. Her whole body neared waking up, that familiar _need_ in her belly churning to life. Despite all that she pumped into Tsugumi the night before and blasted her with otherwise, she _still had more?_ The food had been set, but Gwyneth and Tsugumi continued their game, now overtly rubbing themselves against Avaron. Hands splayed across her chest, groping with desire, their hips bumping and rubbing hers in a grating, hypnotic invitation.

Grabbing the backs of their collars, Avaron yanked them away, firmly keeping them on their seats. “W-wait just a second!” she wheezed, now earnestly sweating. “If you keep doing that we won’t be able to eat!”

“That is no problem, dear customer,” Tsugumi enthused, smiling with that cryptic, spidery smile. “Let me feed you.”

“M-mine help as well, feeding you!” Gwyneth mimicked, obviously taken off-guard but catching up.

“What has gotten into the two of you?”

They both immediately pouted, or at least it looked like it.

“Can I not enjoy our time together before you leave?” Tsugumi asked sourly.

“I wish mine services to be of use …” Gwyneth muttered sadly.

Avaron looked up to the ceiling, her face contorting with displeasure. She sucked in a breath and heaved out a huge sigh. Letting go of both of them, she turned toward Gwyneth. “I’m not kicking you out, stop acting like it.” She then turned toward Tsugumi. “And I’m not ditching you after knocking you up!”

“You intend to stay here?” Tsugumi asked wearily.

“Well, no, but—”

“My curse yet remains, as you so obviously forgot.”

Before Avaron could retort, Gwyneth spoke up. “Thy curse is no more.”

Both of them looked over at her with varying levels of incredulity. Gwyneth scratched her cheek and looked away, utterly bashful at their attention.

“What did you say?” Tsugumi asked, her voice devoid of inflection—frighteningly even in tone.

“I consulted the Flame the night prior,” Gwyneth said, sitting up a little straighter. “Thy curse was bound to this place—a statue in a room, near its center. Twas weakened from time and decay, and dispelled easily by mine attention.”

Tsugumi stared, all six eyes unblinking in their fixation. “That …” she started to say, but her words stopped just as quick.

Under such attention, Gwyneth rubbed the back of her head. “Twas quite strange.”

“How so?” Avaron asked.

“Twas not only mine power undoing it. A great force helped—nay, pushed it over. It might’ve broken the curse by itself.”

“That’s a little … convenient, isn’t it?” Avaron asked, not the slightest clue where such a mysterious force could come from. Clearly not her goddess, or whatever divine power Gwyneth carried with her.

The priestess merely shrugged. “Tis not ours to know all the secrets of the world.”

Tsugumi stood up without a word, the air around her quite strange indeed. She turned and quietly left the room, Avaron and Gwyneth watching her all the while. The two then looked at each other before Avaron stood up. “As much as I hate wasting food …”

Gwyneth shook her head, and so they hurried after Tsugumi.

*~*

They found her at the inn’s front entrance, the now barely-hanging on front doors opened. Tsugumi stared out through them, her face shrouded with an impassive façade. Avaron, not quite knowing what to say, came up along beside her with Gwyneth.

“It really is gone,” Tsugumi said, flat but not hollow.

“Verily …” Gwyneth started before trailing off, clutching a hand to her chest.

Tsugumi rubbed her eyes with two of her hands, the other two busy wringing together. Shaking her head, a new look came over her, one Avaron thought might be determination. The spider woman took a few tentative steps forward, crossing the threshold. Then some more, and more—she stopped half-way into the courtyard, looking around with amazement in her eyes. She waved her hands around her, almost as if to wave smoke away or dispel an illusion.

Then, her face started puffing up, darkening as tear threated the corners of her eyes. Avaron hurried over at the sight, just for Tsugumi rather _grabbed onto_ her the second she was in range. Burying herself into Avaron’s chest and clutching tight to her, she rubbed and smothered her face, hiding it away. Shaky inhales and sputtering exhales followed, the half-formed sobs of someone trying rather hard not to. Rubbing Tsugumi’s back, Avaron laid her head on top of hers, doing all she could to give some comfort.

Sometimes saying something was more problematic than actually doing nothing. Ever understanding of this, Avaron opted for the tried and true. She muttered, “It’s alright,” and “You’ll be fine,” and other such reassurances. How long the two remained there, Gwyneth coming nearby to offer her own encouragement, she couldn’t say.

Tsugumi pulled away first, shyly hiding her face and rubbing her eyes. “How unsightly,” she muttered under her breath. A strong hug from behind by Avaron brought a surprised squeak out of her.

“Not to me,” she said simply, earning a throaty hum of an answer back.

“Mm. To think I can leave after all these years. I must be dreaming.” Tsugumi’s lower arms rubbed around her belly, pressing the dress enough it really showed the bump. “Especially with all these little ones in me …”

Gwyneth gave an airy gasp, her hands clasping together. Avaron realized all too late what happened, her head practically snapping off from how fast she whipped around. She opened her mouth, but to her surprise Gwyneth seemed delighted?

“Oh, she accepted you!” Gwyneth said with a smile. “How wonderful!”

“Indeed,” Tsugumi muttered, two of her eyes spying slyly at Avaron.

“Wait,” the tentradom said dumbly. “You two—”

“Had a talk between women, yes,” Tsugumi said with a sigh, and patted Avaron’s face with a hand. “At least you are cute.”

“I—No, wait. I’m going to eat breakfast first.” Avaron, having reached a brain dumping level of new information, turned around and headed back inside. The two other women giggled and followed behind her. When it was all said and done, they gathered around the lowly table again, and Avaron found herself squished between two conniving bodies. Sighing languidly, she opened her mouth, letting Tsugumi and her elegant chopstick work feed her another piece of meat.

_I can’t really enjoy this, you know,_ Avaron thought, wanting to say it but really she couldn’t. Gwyneth had sent Tsugumi to her? Or had Tsugumi asked? The two conspired in some manner, and the fact Gwyneth was happy she knocked up Tsugumi was a bit of a mind-twister. Not to mention Gwyneth was still her cum slut, but the two had worked that out? Should she have Gwyneth do that still? The priestess was rather distraught in the morning—ah, she was afraid of Tsugumi replacing her?

Goodness she couldn’t ignore any of it at all. She might have an actual stroke.

Unfortunately for her, Nerg showed up. The hulking harraxin woman squeezed through the too-small of a door. Whether or not she noticed Gwyneth and Tsugumi ripping away and pretending to sit like normal people, and not plaster themselves to Avaron like fawning maidens, who knew? Nerg’s heavy steps punctuated the still air, and she sat with a falling thump. “Eugh,” she groaned, rubbing her neck. “That spring takes it out of you, doesn’t it?”

“… It’s supposed to help?” Tsugumi asked, sounding rather uncertain. “I’ve not had a harraxin before, mind.”

“Is heat a problem for your kind?” Avaron asked, grasping at the far simpler conversation like a lifeline.

“Huh? No. Not used to a bath that can fit me!” Nerg chuckled, and fluffing her spiny hair, surveyed the table. “Eh, did you all eat already?”

“Tsugumi was having us try out something,” Avaron said, jabbing a thumb at the hostess. “Checking out the flavors. It’s pretty good, though! Can we get more?”

Hopefully her eyes spoke what her words hinted at.

Tsugumi, all the same, nodded and rose up. “Of course, I’ll prepare a proper meal for everyone now.”

“It smells great,” Nerg remarked approvingly, angling to spy at the tray in front of Avaron. Understanding of the unspoken intent, Avaron pushed it over, and Nerg dragged it the rest of the way with her claws. Whether uncaring or unable to use the chopsticks, she picked up pieces with those impressive talons and ate.

It’d saved Avaron the awkwardness of being force fed her own breakfast. Yet she sensed the incensed aura coming from Gwyneth and Tsugumi. Whether at the food being handed away, or being interrupted, she’d rather not figure out which.

“We’re heading out after breakfast, then?” Nerg asked, surprisingly capable around the food in her mouth.

“Err, just about. I imagine Tsugumi will be joining us.”

“Ain’t she cursed or something to be stuck here?”

“Gwyneth found a way to break it.”

“Huh.” Nerg’s brows jumped up in recognition, then she simply kept eating. “Supplies will be tricky. Get as much as you can from here.”

The thought hadn’t crossed her mind fully—another warm body meant more to feed. _Ah, right,_ Avaron scratched the back of her head. _We’re in the middle of nowhere, despite this ridiculous spring. Okay, makes sense._ Nodding her head, Avaron stretched her arms. “Right, got it! I’ll work it out with her what to take.”

“Mm.”

*~*

Setting out again from the inn felt far too mundane to Avaron. Just the day before she was enjoying a real Japanese-styled spring, banging the daylights out if its owner, and now she joined in on her—group? Party? On top of the fact she had a healthy little belly bump and a lot of growing young inside! Her young! She had to feed them all! And house them, and take care of them, and goodness her stress was just skyrocketing again.

Not even the damn chirping birds and forest sounds calmed her. Listening through her computer speakers was a far cry from being in the damn place. _Ah, I can just feel all those years of personal therapy disappearing in front of me,_ Avaron thought dryly, huffing the sack on her back up again. They didn’t have anything proper, so a hobbled together mess of bed sheets and rope housed all the new supplies they needed with Tsugumi.

She needed a distraction and conversation wouldn’t do.

_Oh, there is that._

Pulling up her personal info screen, she immediately noticed a new option appear on the list. _‘Hive Management’. Great, something new and it already sounds horrible. Oh hey there’s an info button._

[Hive Management allows for management of the hive. Your effectiveness will vary depending on your core skill, Hive Queen, and environmental factors such as distance. You can manage genetic information of the hive through this skill as well.]

[Drones that leave the influence range of the Queen will carry out their last orders before turning feral.]

[Brood mothers who are not selected for the Queen’s party will be regulated here.]

[You can level up Hive Queen through expanding the hive by birthing more drones, expanding the hive growth, and breeding women.]

[Queen’s party members will receive any benefits that drones do while inside Hive territory or within the Queen’s influence. Brood mothers receive their own benefits specifically to make living in the Hive more pleasant.]

Avaron smacked into a tree branch, letting out a surprised yell. Everyone else looked over at her sputtering and smacking the thing away before wiping her face. “I’m fine!” she groused. “Stupid tree.” Nerg, at least, seemed amused with her chuckle, while Gwyneth and Tsugumi nodded and continued on.

_Hey now, this is getting a bit serious?_ Avaron marveled, staring at the help screen again. _Of course there’s more. Hive population, brood mothers, drones, growth status, food status …_ On and on it went, a veritable wall of different subcategories. Her tentative explorations showed even more features buried deeper within. For the better part of the afternoon, Avaron dug through the management window, learning every odd and end she could. The party as a whole broke for camp to eat lunch while Nerg went out to find game.

It took two warm bodies squeezing against her before Avaron really paid attention to the world again. Tsugumi on her right, and Gwyneth on her left, both their chests snug against her arms.

“What has you so distracted?” Tsugumi asked, all six eyes peeled suspiciously.

“Thinking,” Avaron returned dryly.

Gwyneth shook her head. “Please, do not burden thyself! We want to help.”

“It’s not that much of a—”

“—Enough of one our talk about who you were to sleep with didn’t arouse you,” Tsugumi said, cutting down Avaron’s weak deflection.

Avaron blinked owlishly, not at all recalling that conversation. _Was I that engrossed?_ she wondered, bashfully scratching her cheek. “I’m just thinking about the future, really. I’ve got you now,” Avaron said, and gave Tsugumi’s rump a hardy grope. The spider woman jolted and a pleased, throaty hum followed as she pushed herself appreciatively into Avaron’s hand. “And I can’t imagine you’re aiming to leave soon either,” she then said, doing the same for Gwyneth. Both women looked quite happy to be handled, however much their clothes were in the way. “But, there _are_ some things we need to talk about.”

“Like what?” Gwyneth asked, her voice a little higher in pitch.

_Might as well rip every bandaid I got while I’m at it._ Avaron sucked in a breath and sat up straighter on the fallen log they all rested on. “Well, first is first—the royal harem.”

“… Royal?” Tsugumi echoed confusedly.

“I may not look like much, but I am a queen,” Avaron remarked, to which Gwyneth gasped earnestly.

“A queen heroine?!”

“In a sense. I’m more like a queen bee than a queen human.”

“Queen bee?” they both repeated confusedly.

“You know, queen bees, their bee drones, their bee hive … no?”

“Ehm, bees sound loud and their stings hurt … that is all I know,” Gwyneth said, turning away as her cheeks bloomed red. “Sorry.”

Tsugumi merely shrugged.

Avaron found herself in a rather odd problem. “Dear me, okay. She knows—” Avaron jabbed a thumb at Gwyneth, “—what I am, do you, Tsugumi?”

“That you are a tentradom? She confessed after my stern questioning …”

That mysterious smile and Gwyneth’s even deeper blushing promised all sorts of things. Still, it got over the biggest hump in the room. “Where to start … okay, babies and drones. Do either of you know what a drone is?” They shook their heads. “Babies are self-explanatory. The usual man-meets-woman, out pops a kid routine, right?” They both nodded. “Drones are different. They’re—ehm. Hmm. You two have thoughts, right? Thoughts, feelings, hopes, desires …”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Tsugumi asked dryly.

“Drones don’t.”

“Drones don’t think?” Gwyneth asked then, tilting her head.

“Precisely. Drones have no thoughts, no mind, no will of their own. They’re empty inside, soulless vessels. They’d be utterly worthless if not for the presence of the queen.”

“… The queen gives them thoughts?” Tsugumi ventured boldly, much to Avaron’s brow-raised surprise.

“Yes, but not to becoming people. Drones exist to serve the Queen’s will. Whatever she desires, they fulfill.”

“Then, a Queen commands lots and lots of drones?” Gwyneth said, surprisingly thoughtful.

“For a tentradom queen, yes. Bees not so much, but that’s another topic.” Avaron turned back to Tsugumi, her eyes briefly dropping toward that rounded belly barely bulging against her clothes. “The, ehm, well, the ones you’re carrying …”

Tsugumi giggled gayly, hiding her mouth behind her sleeve. “F-for one who made me like this, you are bashful!” she chirped, her own words making her giggle harder. Even Gwyneth smiled humorously, and Avaron sat there, roasted to a fine blushing blue.

“Fine, then!” Avaron chirped, sticking her nose up. “I knocked you up with a bunch of drones! Because, well, I figured you didn’t want the other one and—mmph!”

A finger pressed to her lips, shutting her up as Tsugumi righted herself upward. “I know,” she said, smiling with a fang peaking out. “The goddess’ message told me.”

“… Message?”

“Tis a pane of the finest glass that appears to only the ones chosen by the goddesses,” Gwyneth said. “No other can see another’s message, as much as no other can see another’s level, or skills, or other blessings.”

_That sounds like the game system I’ve been using?_ Avaron wondered. “How long have the goddesses done this?”

“As far as history can tell, truly.”

_That is rather telling. If it is the same thing, I doubt these goddesses came to the idea on their own. Did another one from Earth tell them?_ For as much of a slippery slope as that questioning was, Avaron set it aside. “What did the message say, Tsugumi?”

“My, how bold,” Tsugumi said reproachfully. “It is my secret to know.”

“I—Sorry?” Avaron said and scratched the back of her head.

“You are too kind,” Tsugumi said, her playful air disappearing completely. “If you want something, push to take it.”

Avaron waved her off with a dismissive snort. “If it’s that important I will. I’m not some asshole who needs everything.”

“Hmm. How astute.” Tsugumi leaned in, two hands coming to grasp Avaron’s face. The spider woman stole a kiss, planting her maw on Avaron’s lips with a warm, wet envelopment for a few long seconds. When they parted, she smiled and licked her lips. “Keep being cute and I won’t be able to resist.”

Avaron, having rather left her mind for a moment, snapped back to attention. “Yeah, well—yeah.” Gwyneth grumbled from beside her, rather pointed in her annoyed sound. Before she might say anything, Tsugumi reached over and yanked the priestess. All but dragging her onto Avaron’s lap, the two ended up in a rather awkward position, the spider woman smiling from beside them.

“The same can be said of you, Gwyneth,” Tsugumi said with a ‘tut tut tut’. “Such shyness is unbecoming.”

_She’s the one saying that?_ Avaron thought with a mental laugh. It became rather hard to not notice how Gwyneth’s thighs snuggly squeezed her hips, or that butt firmly owning her lap space. Instinct spoke up before thought, appraising a rather _fertile_ woman glowing with an enticing aroma. The scent alone invited her in, delightfully carnal and stirring her belly in that familiar way. Avaron coughed, suddenly feeling rather hot under the collar. “But, uhh, that’s the other issue,” she said, trying to get back on point.

“What is?” Tsugumi asked.

“The royal harem. Now that its begun with Tsugumi, she has a vote in who joins,” Avaron said hurriedly. The idea sounded good on paper and she really didn’t want the boat being rocked. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to, you know, do things unless she knew …”

“I’m starting to see why you spoke so highly of her,” Tsugumi said dryly, three eyes looking at Gwyneth.

“She is a good person! But, ehm, as you see …”

Avaron looked between the two of them. “What?”

Tsugumi brushed some of Avaron’s hair back, tidying up it a little. “My dear customers, I already agreed with Gwyneth. Don’t you want her for your _harem?_ ” she asked with a sly smile.

“I …”

“T-tis not mine place to ask!” Gwyneth sputtered, shaking her hands dismissively. “B-but rather, tis not mine choice to make. I must confer with the Cardinal in Shadowpeak’s temple.”

Two heads turned toward her, both staring at her rather owlishly. “What Cardinal?” Avaron asked first.

“Ehm. The one who presides over mine order. He is most wise, and gave unto me mine flame to keep.”

_Ah, religious vows._ That Avaron understood, and she nodded. “That’s fine, then.”

“I cannot take young as fair Tsu—sugu, erm … Tsugumi—“ Gwyneth tripped on the name for a moment, “—but mine mouth may relieve thee still! If thee, ehm, desires it.”

Tsugumi tutted again and shooed Gwyneth off of Avaron. She moved behind the tentradom, coming to hug her from behind as much as her egg-filled belly would allow. “Poor thing,” she whispered into Avaron’s ear. “She’s dripping with jealously that I got pregnant first.”

_Huh?_ Avaron thought with a heated haze, all of everything going _way too fast_ for her to keep up with. Two of Tsugumi’s arms came to her chest, groping her breasts with a tight, demanding hold. Her other two arms, meanwhile, went down to the rope-tied waist of the shoddy pants the tentradom wore. Gwyneth soon joined in, helping to untie and yank them down to Avaron’s ankles. “W-wait, what are you doing?” she sputtered, squeezing her knees together to hide herself.

“She told me all about you before I came in last night,” Tsugumi continued whispering, her words all but drowning out Avaron’s mind. How could such a sweet, crystal voice drip with such hot liquid honey? The spider woman could say jump and Avaron’s leg would go before her brain knew to. “I didn’t believe most of it, until dear customer ravaged me in my own inn. Pinning me to the bed sheets, plowing that big, throbbing … what is it called again?”

“A tentacle? Teeeenty!” Avaron chirped, the aforementioned becoming _rather awake_ rather quickly! It churned to life, already wriggling its way out from deep inside her pussy. If she thought to get away, opening her knees might send the thing shooting out.

“Mm, that. The taste was better than anything I’d had before. Stupid customer, wasting all your cum on the bed!” Tsugumi’s sweet voice turned harsh, her fingers pinching Avaron’s nipples. The tentradom let out a chirping squeal, her modest chest trapped in Tsugumi’s unrelenting claws. Not even the shirt saved her. “All the delicious, filling cum. You wanted to know of the Goddesses message?”

Avaron sure wasn’t certain if she wanted to anymore. Gwyneth stroked her naked thighs, playfully trying to pry them apart. It wasn’t strong enough to budge anything, but just _feeling_ those smooth fingers caress her! Her eyes crossed for a moment, and her escaping tenty bulged out between her pussy lips. Whether she wanted it to or not, the wriggling thing emerged, covered in sweet, slippery cum and flaring awake with its bulbous arrow-shaped head. Avaron exhaled mightily, her knees spreading open to let the pulsating tentacle rise up.

“They told me all about the young in me,” Tsugumi enthused, her voice shaking with a wonderfully pleased tremor. Was she getting excited, or just happy? Avaron could hardly tell the difference. “And how wonderful your cum is. Richer than the richest meals, not even a king could buy it … mm, and I agree. They blessed you, to feed us that delicious cum.”

Avaron’s words disappeared into a nonsense garble as Gwyneth grasped her squirming tenty. The damn thing knew where her mouth was already, angling with futile, thrusting jab to delve inside. Gwyneth smiled, licking her lips at the sight. _F-fuck my life,_ Avaron thought deliriously. _I painted that room last night and there’s still more?!_

Her world tilted when Tsugumi pulled her head back. Balanced against the spider woman, she found herself staring face-to-face and those six beautiful eyes. Bubbly pink hearts floated in them, faint but ever distinct against the gem-like irises. Something was definitely happening there, but damn if she could figure it out.

“Dear customer,” Tsugumi breathed, her lips peeling open and showing her fangs. “Be good and feed us our lunch now~”

The hot prison of a kiss followed, swallowing up Avaron’s words into a slutty muffle. At the same time, Gwyneth’s lips kissed the tip of the squirming tentacle, her hands slackening just a little. It thrust with desperation into her mouth, and the wet, slurping cave of that mouth gulped it down. Such a tag-team effort revealed one daunting fact in Avaron’s mind.

She’d worried about her own talents, well, overwhelming women around her.

Now she wasn’t certain if she would survive the women overwhelming _her_.

*~*

First Princess Arzha stared out across the wide, expansive field surrounding her pavilion. The land of the Shieldcrown family ever remained rich in its beauty, dotted by careful pathways, flower gardens, and small coves. More to relax than train, it was an ultimate luxury in a kingdom otherwise tight on living space. Few had such a sight in the safety of their own home; only adventurers might find something comparable.

With a dreary sigh, she set her tea cup daintily upon the saucer held in her other hand. “I see, so it’s war then.”

Haleen, rolling up the paper message in her hands, remained tight-lipped. Her anxiety bled through even her stoic visage, a not inconsiderable fact.

“It-it’s not certain, is it?” Saryl asked, voicing the hopeless thought they all undoubtedly shared.

Setting the tea cup on the white-clothed table, Arzha kicked a leg up, folding it over her other knee. The nearly skin-tight, silk fabric stretched wonderfully to form, outlining her shapely muscles with the tiniest hint. “It became inevitable when the summoning succeeded,” Arzha said flatly, killing every hope any of them might’ve had. “On top of the aggressive movement of the Church, they planned fully for this. Now all of Artor is to be offered as sacrifice, we the scapegoats for their devilish plan.”

“What are we to do, Your Majesty?” Magna asked, admirably on form despite the graveness of their situation.

_What to do …_

Those three words had plagued her for months, never to be answered. She had warned her father, the King. She had tried to have the knights curtail the Church’s ambitions. She had moved to secure peace with the neighboring queendoms, promise them heroines and usher in fruitful alliances. All of it simply came out to be too little, too late.

Whatever she had control over was never enough. Whatever her brother wanted, he got.

In the end, her foolish father favored an idiot drunk on power since birth.

No amount of hindsight would change the ruin that would befall them all.

Arzha afforded herself one long, dragging pull of her gloved hand down her face. For just one moment, she let the frustration in her chest bubble out in the ugliest of scowls. Her blade-sharp face contorted, brow deepening, teeth clenching, her whole neck tight with raw, unfiltered anger. The Snowflake knights all shrank back, remaining where they stood even as their bodies screamed to get away. Planting both hands onto the arm rests, she pushed herself up, ever slow and proper. Ice, however, grew across the demure wooden frame, racing down with a crystalline crackle until the whole thing stood frozen straight to the ground.

Her eyes swept across the open field while she folded her hands together behind her back. _What to do?_

One queendom after another will come for them. They had no hope of defeating their neighbors in a collected war. Not unless the stupidest of generals led their armies, and she sincerely doubted that. The timing of it all may offer a way—if they focused one-by-one in enough time, they might be able to pull it off. Could their armies handle such a back breaking pace?

No …

No, none of that would work. To rely upon one’s enemies to make a mistake in order to win, she’d already doomed herself.

“I don’t know,” Arzha said simply, breaking the tense silence. “If I could go back two years and try again, I would’ve killed my brother and been done with it.”

“The time being what it is, my lady,” Haleen said, stepping in where everyone else kept distance. “What can we do?”

“… Buy time, we need to buy time,” Arzha muttered, thinking aloud. She turned around, and her knights snapped to attention. “More than anything else, we need to keep every queendom around us tied up. The merchants, the armies, the treaties; anything that will stall an invasion. Haleen, fetch my writing kit. The rest of you, prepare for your horses. We will be most busy paying visits to everyone.”

  
“Yes, Your Majesty!” the knights sang in unison, their long years of butt-slap training coming through then. They turned and hurried out to the larger estate home farther away. Arzha watched them move with purpose, determined in their own ways.

_Diplomacy will have to suffice,_ she mused, going back to her frozen chair. Sitting down, she picked up her tea again, the cold not bothering her at all. _Armies need time to form, money to pay for supplies, and supplies to feed. Our trading prowess is not for nothing. This … this can buy time._

As it stood, Artor would fall.

Only something she couldn’t see, some insane impossibility, might still save them.

The coming summer would be the defining point of her life, she knew.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Lukewarm Intrigue

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Nerg (???) (lv.??) – Tempted Lover

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)


	8. Shadowpeak

_The future that is not the present has not happened is not the past, yet._

*~*

“Could this place be any more of a downer?”

“A … downer?” Gwyneth asked.

“Look at it!” Avaron said, sweeping a hand in a wide gesture. Far, far away but ever coming closer was the fabled ‘Shadowpeak’ city. Crawling across the gray cliffs, ridges, and vertical faces of the mountains around it, the whole place sprawled as much as it arose to the heavens. Great spires and towers jutted forth, connected through bridges and arches of what she hoped were stone. Black and gray stones defined the architecture, but surprisingly a great deal of blues, purples, and reds accented it. She couldn’t tell why exactly, but it wasn’t a total gothic nightmare. “It’s so … so sad looking. Like a graveyard.”

“What graveyards do you go to?” Nerg asked incredulously.

“Listen, I’m just saying.” Avaron threw her hands up at the three incredulous pairs of eyes. “It’s not sunshine and rainbows where we’re going.”

“Shadowpeak is quite rich!” Gwyneth said, sounding almost offended. “Just wait, thy disbelief will disappear!”

_It’s not the wealth I’m worried about,_ Avaron thought, but kept her words.

Their trek from then on, thankfully, was uneventful and pleasant. Despite the harshness of the terrain, a number of winding cobblestone roads had been built. While it wasn’t all sheer cliffs, caravans and pack animals wouldn’t fare that well outside of the roads. Nor, as Avaron looked around more, would people easily approach the city. _I’ll bet money this used to be a fortress once,_ she mused. _The whole place is perfect. Fixed avenues of approach, inflexible options to attack …_

Of course, that cut both ways. Shadowpeak must’ve had some way to endure being cut off from its roads if the enemy chose to blockade, too. It would’ve been a great place for a beginner in an RTS game; or, the final mission of an epic campaign for an attacker. Nonetheless, the closer they came to the city, the more people they found. A trickle turned into a stream, and trade seemed quite happy for them indeed. Not quite jammed full, but every couple of minutes saw carts of some kind drawn by horses heading out or coming in.

A great gate loomed before them soon enough, one of dark stone, polished iron, and oddly angular geometry. The builders seemed fond of their triangles and sharp corners, perhaps as a measure of intimidation? Avaron had a hard time seeing it outside of the ‘evil overlord’ vibes it proudly gave off. At least the people fared better, dressed in their simple browns and grays as they were, jackets, coats, robes, and the like. They fell into a queue, where some guards dressed in plate armor awaited ahead.

“I shall meet them,” Gwyneth said, standing at the front of the party. Nerg took a few steps back, and Avaron thought her rather disgruntled at suddenly being kicked out of the lead. They all drew glances, or rather Nerg did.

_Something something, racial discrimination and Harraxin,_ Avaron thought dryly. Not at all a hard stretch of the imagination, given what Nerg told her already. How rather _blatant_ people were being about it was another matter entirely. They soon enough met the guards running the inspection.

“Oh? A Flame priestess?” the one in charge asked, staring at Gwyneth’s flickering flame. Which, as it ever did, sat over her noticeable chest.

“Mine name be Gwyneth. These three art mine companions.”

The guard looked over, his most suspicious eyes upon Nerg, but otherwise kept his peace. He waved over at another, who carried over some hefty, leather-bound tome. “Right then, we’ll check the registry. If you’re vouching for them, understand anything they do will be your responsibility.”

“Verily? Why such scrutiny?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“We’ve been traveling.”

“Ah? Well, seems like war is coming. The kingdom of Artor summoned a bunch of heroines, and they’re refusing to give them up.”

“The Ashmourn will war with Artor?” Gwyneth asked, sounding rather surprised.

The guard, however, shook his head. “I don’t know about that, but we’re doubling up and keeping our eyes open. Hand on the rune, if you would,” he asked, holding out the leatherbound book. Gwyneth planted her hand upon the arcane looking circle and its fanciful symbols. A tiny red light flowed out from her palm, filling the inscriptions to the brim. When she brought her hand away, he nodded, shut the tome and handed it off to his subordinate. “Right, a real and true Flame priestess. Welcome back to Shadowpeak, my lady.”

Gwyneth did a little curtsy, to which he nodded in kind. Shouting and waving, the guards cleared way for them, and Gwyneth led them through the impressively thick tunnel that the gate guarded. Nerg’s low whistle drew Avaron’s attention.

“What?”

“Never gotten through that gate that quick before!” Nerg laughed and clapped Gwyneth on the shoulder, all but knocking the priestess over. “Hire me more!”

“Eh? Eh? M-maybe,” Gwyneth said, rather rattled by it all.

“Whitey back there owes me on our bet, so I won’t be out of your hair yet.”

“… A bet?” Tsugumi echoed, the politeness of her tone striking a cold fear in Avaron’s heart.

“Ah, yeah,” the tentradom said, trying to keep a straight face. “She got me there alright.”cKnocking up Tsugumi had thrown a wrench in that plan pretty badly. Now that she had her first royal harem member, she really had to consult Tsugumi on the matter. Need be she’d burn Nerg on the bet, for better or worse. If Avaron had any reservations about pissing off someone so big, Tsugumi’s sweet smile terrified her even more. “Before any of that, though, do you know an inn or somewhere to stay?”

“Mm? Yeah,” Nerg said, almost surprised sounding. “Decent place, fits me fine.”

“Well, we’ll stop there first and pay you. These two might want somewhere softer, though.”

Gwyneth puffed up her cheeks while Tsugumi only smiled coyly.

*~*

After everyone had settled in at Nerg’s (surprisingly comfortable) choice of inn, Gwyneth excused herself. A bounce in her step and a purposeful energy surrounded her, one that made any other on the street give her space. The flame above her bosom flickered and glowed, throbbing with her heart in a rhythmic pulse. Brightening and dimming, only she knew the divine language it spoke to her through.

“Verily,” Gwyneth muttered, unable to hide the smile on her face. “It gladdens mine heart to know thy pleasure. The others shall rejoice in mine success!”

The flame flickered, an unusual dimness overcoming it.

“Mm? Thy help truly made it possible! … No? That is not it?” Gwyneth, ever growing more confused, stopped for a moment and looked down. The flame had all but quieted then, assuring her it wasn’t seeking credit. Yet, in knowing its withdrawal, she wouldn’t have any answers. It would have to be enough to know she hadn’t offended. Setting her confusion aside, she hurried through Shadowpeak’s well-kept streets, heading toward a dauntingly large cliff.

A zig-zagging road built into the cliff defined the approach, a series of winding ramps. While newer elevator shafts suited more modern traffic, her order yet remained off the very winding road others disparaged at having to climb. Back and forth, back and forth, she walked and turned, ascending the winding path. Half-way up, a branching road split off, leading across a path snug up against the cliff. Wide enough for a cart, a stone wall guarded her left from falling off, while the cliff towered above on the right.

Such a familiar route, the age of it all weighing on her senses. The way her footsteps echoed, and how the wind blew in, sweeping into her front and cutting to the back—not quite a breeze, but like a great force suddenly rebounding. Others had told her of the sights the road offered, all of Shadowpeak on display. Or, most of it. She’d never seen it, her world ever the dim, flickering bubble that the flame illuminated.

Gwyneth had long stopped wondering what such a ‘view’ others saw might be.

Hers was to see what none of them saw; a fitting irony in her mind.

The road shifted to the right. A flight of stairs awaited, taking her up further and further, a whole two minutes of walking. Two great doors soon stood before her, their old, two-feet thick iron unyieldingly heavy. A faint hint of magic touched her senses, ever familiar in its indifferent inspection of her. Searching; seeing; judging. The magic withdrew, and a groaning whine of burdened hinges ripped through the air. The doors parted, just enough for her to walk through comfortably.

“Who goes there?” a cutesy, young voice asked from the side. A young acolyte soon hurried within range, barely at all fourteen years of age.

“Tis me, Gwyneth. I seek the Flame Seer.”

“L-lady Gwyneth?! Of course! Please, this way.”

The acolyte hurriedly bowed and gestured, something that rather surprised Gwyneth. Although blessed by the Flame, her rank truly wasn’t that high in the Order. Why bother with such grandiosity? They traveled up through the monastery, itself a multi-level, jagged construction. The smoothest areas were the ones they’d mined out themselves, supposedly. The rest had been built as-is into whatever space was already there. Gwyneth rather enjoyed the bobbing and weaving, moving through tight corridors and up spiraling staircases.

No place like home.

They reached the wood door to the Flame Seer, somewhere in the middle of the whole complex. The acolyte entered first, announcing Gwyneth’s arrival before she herself stepped in. The scent of musty tomes and incense enveloped her, a veritable wall of scent. Her nose twitched at the ever familiar, if intensely _stuffy_ air. She stepped aside for the acolyte to leave, the door closing behind her.

Gwyneth bowed. “Mine return, great Seer.”

“It eases my bones to see you safe again, Gwyneth,” Flame Seer Harn said, his voice warm with age. “Tell me, what of your quest?”

“Most successful! Somewhat,” Gwyneth enthused immediately before catching her manners.

“Ah, it stokes the smoldering embers in my heart to hear.”

So Gwyneth conveyed her journey to Artor, then ascertaining the nature of the heroines that were summoned. In speaking of Avaron, she _quite_ skimmed over details, especially of her faithful servicing of the divine tentradom. Yet, upon uttering the truth of the woman’s existence—that of a tentradom—the Flame grew cold and still, shockingly so. Gwyneth earnestly paused for a moment, the heat still there, but the fire the most distant she’d ever felt.

“Is something amiss?” Harn asked.

“N-no, just … recollecting.” Gwyneth smiled uneasily. _Does he not know of the Flame’s disquiet?_ It wasn’t really her place to ask or question; Harn knew more of the Flame than her. And thus, she continued, filling him in on their stay at the inn, the harraxin mercenary guard, and their otherwise uneventful journey to Shadowpeak itself. When she finished, silence hung in the air, a thoughtful contemplation she undoubtedly believed.

“And this … heroine, Avaron, is at the inn now?”

“Resting, I believe.”

“I see. Good, good. Rest here, Gwyneth, I will send others to guide the heroine to us.”

Oh, a chance for Laura’s stew again! Gwyneth smiled and bowed. “Verily, Flame Seer. I believe thou will enjoy meeting her!”

“… Hm, indeed. Rest easy, Gwyneth.”

*~*

A meaty, banging knock rattled the room and jolted Avaron awake. Tsugumi grumbled from beside her on the bed, lifting her head to glare at the door. In the low light of a single candle, Avaron squinted, seeing a much brighter light outside the door. Petting Tsugumi’s oily hair, she shushed the spider woman and said, “I’ll get it.”

“Hmph,” Tsugumi grunted. When Avaron stood up, her hand went to the vacant spot, tracing aimless patterns in the stiff bedsheets.

The raw energy exuding off of Tsugumi made Avaron’s skin tingle and she hurried toward the door. Upon cracking it open, she spied a big woman and a heavy set of armor. She craned her head up, finding a certain someone leaning against the frame and looking down. “Nerg?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yup. There’s some priests who are here for you.”

Something about her tone of voice was off—something that stirred a distant, dangerous memory from long ago. Avaron blinked and made a show of seeming rather sleepy by rubbing her eyes. “Me, really?”

“They’re on Gwyneth’s behalf, supposedly.”

“Alright, alright, let me get dressed first.”

“Be quick.”

And so Avaron shut the door, her mind now _sharply_ awake. She turned toward Tsugumi, and the spider woman’s lazy expectation vanished upon seeing her face. Avaron held up a finger to her lips before stepping over. “Can you get out through the window?” she whispered hurriedly.

“Why?” Tsugumi asked uncertainly.

“Call it a hunch. There was that other inn we passed, the golden bar?”

“The Golden Boar?”

“That one. Rent a room there and hide out.”

“… Is this about your bet with her?”

Avaron shook her head. “No. Trust me on this, some bad shit is about to go down.”

“Shouldn’t I—”

“—I don’t want to risk you or them,” Avaron said with quiet exasperation. In the time since the inn and their travel, Tsugumi’s belly had grown noticeably in size. Even her dress couldn’t hide it anymore, and she hadn’t a clue what might happen if she was in a bad spot. Tsugumi’s lips pursed together tightly, not at all happy. “On the off-chance I’m being neurotically paranoid, I’ll make it up to you.”

“… Just this once, fine.” Tsugumi huffed and got up from bed. The two went about dressing properly, and then met by the window. In opening it, the twilight sky blinded them both for a moment. They checked around to make sure no one was in the alley, or watching.

“It looks clear to me,” Avaron said, and Tsugumi nodded. “You—mmph!” A fat, hard kiss landed on her lips, a sucking pressure sealing them together in a jaw-tingling embrace. “Mm, mhmm,” Avaron hummed, rather caught off by how hard Tsugumi captured her. For all the sweet and tantalizing taste, it was the _desperation_ it hid that spoke enough. In returning it, Avaron hoped it’d bring some comfort to her royal lover. When they parted, Tsugumi beat a fist on Avaron’s shoulder once, then twice—not hard enough to hurt, but it ever showed her frustration.

“I’m sorry,” Avaron said lamely.

“Come back,” Tsugumi ordered direly, then hefted herself through the window.

For all her worries of such a pregnant woman, her nimble movements and magical web threads rather dashed them. Avaron looked out of the window as the spider disappeared around the corner, moving with speed and grace. _I know her level is the highest I’ve seen, but still …_ Avaron sighed and withdrew, quietly shutting the window again. _I don’t have the slightest idea how that affects fighting at all. It might be total bullshit._

Nor, truly, was she willing to pay the price such a risk entailed.

Heading to the door, all dressed in her shoddy traveler’s clothes, Avaron opened it. Nerg, it seemed, waited a little bit down the hallway. Shutting the door behind her, Avaron made a show of yawning and shaking herself ‘awake’. “Alright, alright,” she grumbled. “What do they want?”

Nerg shrugged and fell in behind her, descending the stairs together. “Dunno.”

“Oh, this better not be something weird,” Avaron remarked dryly, much to Nerg’s amused snort.

The main hall of the inn turned out far quieter than when they first arrived. Aside from the working staff, what guests there were left sat in far corners in their own seclusion. It made the group of five robed figures all the more noticeable. Adorning the same style as Gwyneth, they had fanciful red-stitching and silvery drapes, uplifting them to some kind of new status. It would be their spears, however, she noticed the most. Black wood poles tipped by curved blades was not something a greeting party in a city should be walking around with.

_Then again, different world, different customs?_ Avaron said to herself, finding it hard to believe. They turned at her approach, all of them wearing full-covering facial masks. The make was exactly the same as Gwyneth’s, save covering the lower half of their heads. “You all the people from the flame order or whatever?” Avaron asked.

“We are,” the leader-apparent said, moving to stand at the fore of the group. “You are Avaron? The one Gwyneth spoke of?”

“I mean my name is Avaron, yes, and I know Gwyneth. What do you want?”

The leader bowed slightly, hand over his chest. “The Flame Seer bids we escort you to the monastery. Please follow us.”

“Really? How come Gwyneth isn’t here?”

“She is resting now. It is … something of a walk.”

“Ah, man, but I already paid for our inn tonight!”

No response came, an uncomfortable air surrounding them all. Nerg shoved Avaron in the shoulder, coughing loudly. “No one refuses the Flame’s summons,” she said awkwardly.

“Fine, fine, whatever!” Avaron threw her hands up in the air. The motion rather unsettled the Flame priests, who jostled and almost took a step back. Rather unexpecting the motion, it betrayed what their clothes hid—raw nervousness. Perhaps that was the scent she picked up? The irritable, agitated feeling in her gut certainly felt appropriate to be called ‘nervousness’. There wasn’t any reason for that she could think of. “Well, lead the way, then.”

The leader bowed and together, the seven of them headed out of the inn and into the twilight-kissed city. They headed toward the huge cliff, one the city seemed to have built into somewhat. A winding, zig-zag path cut up through the cliff, perhaps mined out at some point in the past. She saw all sorts of rectangular columns lining the walls, lights moving up and down in a particularly familiar way. _Elevators?_ Avaron wondered. They’d looked like support pillars earlier, but the lights inside the cages gave them away. _It makes senses and all, lots of vertical spaces here …_

She was a little suspect about the quality of such ‘medieval’ ideas, though. In a world without electricity, it rather concerned how they worked—or how safe they actually might be. In approaching, the residential-like area bled away into rows of warehouses, storage yards, and other worker-related functions. Most of it winded down for the night, all sorts laughing and heading toward the pubs and inns she’d just left. It would be they seemed to head to a smaller cliff, an outcropping where a platform had been built.

Plastered stone bricks, bound by wooden frames defined the expand. Iron formed the ‘skeleton’ it all built off of, a rather sensible choice now that she thought about. Thick, grid-like fences lined the edges, taller than even Nerg to keep people from yeeting themselves from the platform. Or, being yeeted, as the case may be. There was a particular hole in the fences, an iron-frame she thought might be the holder for the elevator. There really wasn’t a contraption at the top machine or anything to _pull_ the elevator up, though. _Do they … do they push them up? What?_ Avaron wondered, eyes squinted. _That’s a little—_

A gargling wheeze escaped the sudden, crushing force around her throat. Her hands flew up on reflex, grabbing the armored wrist of Nerg. Lifted from the ground, she quite became aware of gravity, her whole body wanting to go one way, and her head being pulled the other. Kicking her legs, she saw the Flame priests approach, brandishing ropes. They bound her ankles then her wrists, ensnaring her with such speed and efficiency they had to have done it more than once. Dumped unceremoniously onto the ground, Avaron’s head smacked the unyielding stone, not at all helping her choking coughs.

“W-what the FUCK!” she yelled, squirming futilely on the floor. “Nerg, you traitorous cunt!”

“The job was to escort you to the city, not guard in it,” Nerg said with all the ease of telling the weather, shrugging her shoulders. “Not my fault the bounty on your head is that great.”

“Bounty? What bounty?”

“Ours,” the leader of the priests said, his fellows falling into rank beside him. “I thank you, Nerg, for helping in this endeavor.”

“You got what you paid for,” Nerg said simply. She turned around and waved over her shoulder, leaving. “Have fun.”

“Fine, she’s a mercenary, that’s on me! What’s your fucking deal?” Avaron asked, scowling at the priests. They uncorked a bunch of gourds, and dumped a lot of clear, smelly liquid onto her. She spat and squinted, shaking her head to get the crap out of her face. The _smell_ of it was all too familiar, if a bit more unrefined. “What is this? Lantern oil?”

They all clapped their hands together, bowing as if in reverent respect. “Oh, great Flame, we offer unto you this vile being, to redeem as only fire can. May its ashes enrichen the world, and bring prosperity in its passing.”

_Wait—_

Avaron hadn’t a moment to protest or think before, in front of the priests, roiling flames spat forth from their hands. The fires washed over her, igniting the oil, and so her spot on the ground erupted into a mixture of chemical and magic fire. The priests stood before the bonfire, muttering prayers to their great Flame, and observing Avaron’s body smoulder. Minutes passed and the flames began to recede, all that was left was a charred husk of a body, a not-too-unfamiliar sight to them. One of the priests unfolded a large, person-sized cloth, and with the help of two others, rolled Avaron’s remains up. Tying it off with some left-over rope, they heaved it up, and carried her to the open space in the platform’s fence.

One, two, three, and they threw her down the refuse shoot, letting the remains fall into the fetid pit so much other garbage ended up in. Wiping their hands with oil, they cleaned them off with a few rags in their pockets, and then arrayed before their leader once more. He nodded, and gestured to be followed. “Let us inform the Flame Seer. We have done well, our world is safe from another tentradom.”

They walked away.

In the few moments of them having thrown Avaron’s body and turned away, however, they never saw what followed.

Running and jumping across the sheer cliff, strands of web acting as swinging anchors, Tsugumi caught Avaron’s bundle mid-fall. With all the speed of a hunter, she rocketed past, disappearing into the crevices that so lined Shadowpeak.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Lukewarm Intrigue

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)


	9. Shadowpeak Part 2

_To survive is to struggle; to live, is to be._

*~*

A crinkling crack filled the room. The sound of something breaking, not quite stone, nor metal, nor wood. One might, if they knew, liken it to an insect molting—a wet, crunching sound. Slowly, a hand rose from the cold stone slab, blackened as the trees in a forest after a fire. It curled its fingers shakily, audible cracks of its charred flesh pointedly loud. A muffled sound followed, different from all the others: a voice groaning. The hand reached up, groping at its owners burned face. It scratched and clawed at the dried husk of flesh, before finally forming a solid, shaky fist.

One solid crack followed as it slammed into its own face, shattering the husk of flesh completely. Coughs and sputters followed, a shaky gasp of air breaking them. Wiping her face clear and spitting out the gunk in her mouth, Avaron’s eyes wearily opened, the candlelit dim light easy on her _far too sensitive_ sight. She looked around, for as much as her unmoving head could look. _Where … where the fuck? What the fuck?_ she thought groggily. The last bits she remembered was quite literally being lit on _fire_ and then the rest blacked out from there.

_Am I dead? Again?_

Felt like a train had hit her, or something. In trying to sit up, the charred flesh clinging to her crumbled and shattered, breaking off in bits and pieces. Avaron looked down with disgust, patting at herself. Patting turned to clawing, and she ripped piece after piece away. Oddly relieving in a way, like removing a couple days worth of clothes or a bandaid off a soft but healed wound. In no time at all, she’d pried herself free and stood up, completely and utterly naked. Twisting her head, a sickening, crunchy pop followed, and she sighed pleasantly.

“Fuck my life. Okay, where am I?”

The stone slab she got off was there, as well as some shelves—or at least, cut outs in a stone wall that worked like shelves. Shoddy rugs lined the stone floor, and dimly glowing candles provided the only light, well on their way to finally dying. Eyeballing the shelves, she found flasks, beakers, tongs, knives, scalpels … _Is this a surgery room?_ she wondered with a touch of horror. Goosebumps shot down her whole body at the sight, and she quickly averted her eyes to the door. A simple, wooden door with some iron reinforcement. Avaron hurried over to it and tried the handle, finding it completely unlocked.

_Oho?_ she wondered, peeking around the creaking wood door. The sound must’ve carried through the narrow hall, but it too had dim, dying candle light. If she didn’t know better, someone forgot to put them all out. Evenly spaced iron bands seemed to act as supports, while tiny cubby holes held the candles. A simple brown rug ran the length of the hall, quite obviously patched together again and again multiple times. Feeling one direction as good as any other, Avaron sneakily left the ‘surgery room’.

To her dismay, her chosen path led to a storage room—a doorless hole filled with crates, vials, boxes, jars, and other things. _Well okay then,_ she thought with a roll of her eyes, turned around, and headed the other way. The hallway bent around a corner, where another door awaited already opened up. The room there was rather quite large, a spacious living area that, upon examination, combined living, cooking, and storage all at once. To her left were some rather large, rounded cut outs in the stone wall, showing the night sky and its beauteous wonders. Avaron spied at the kitchenette on her right for a moment, before sudden movement ahead caught her attention.

A woman rose from a simple chair, covered in a white robe. The sheer and thin material hugged her shapely form, clearly leaving her large, bigger-than-Avaron’s-palms breasts on display. Her very movement carried grace and purpose, complimenting the flair of her hips with an eye-catching movement. In fact, were it not for her fluffy furred legs, Avaron wouldn’t have looked away. _What in the world?_ she thought, her gaze going up and finding a round, cute face and shimmering gold eyes staring at her. Complimented by two smooth, ivory horns jutting out of her white-haired head, sweeping forward like two menacing spikes ready to impale.

Avaron shrank behind the door, and the woman paused, concern coming over her face.

“Are you alright?” she asked, clutching a hand and her far-too-big sleeves to her bosomy chest.

“I—” Avaron broke into a nasty, ragged cough that left her throat sore. “Ah, water?” she wheezed, rubbing it carefully. The woman nodded and hurried over to the kitchenette, pulling the lid off of a jug. Avaron couldn’t help taking note of the rather long tail jutting out behind her, full on furred with white hair the same as her legs and arms. _Is she … is she some kind of sheep?_ It didn’t look right to her. Rather than the fluff thickness of sheep, it had wispy and air quality to it, being both full and cloud-like.

The stranger approached and gingerly held out a stone mug to her. Avaron took it slowly, eying her and her concerned eyes suspiciously before taking a sip. She hadn’t seen anything untoward go in, and aside from the raw taste of rock and mineral, it was water alright. One gulp after another, and her sore throat felt quite refreshed. “Ah, ahem, thanks,” she said, gingerly offering the mug back.

“How are you feeling?” the woman asked, wide-eyed and curious.

“Fine? Fine, a bit cold, and hung over. No, not really that one. Anyway, who are you?”

“I am Cecile. You are Avaron, yes?”

“I am.”

“Tsugumi was very worried about you,” Cecile said, brushing some of her inordinately long hair behind a pointed ear. The first thing that came to Avaron’s mind was ‘elfish’, but it was a firm, strong ear that while pointed, was stout looking, not long. “I bid her rest and took over watching.”

“Tsugumi is here? Where is here, anyway?”

“The mountains beyond the land called Ashmourn. Tsugumi carried your remain—erm, you, all the way here.”

All sorts of questions followed, but none of them were ones she really wanted answers to right then. With a dreary sigh, Avaron moved away from the door, standing fully apparent now. Cecile’s wide eyes went down to her chest immediately, staring with a wonder no woman with her figure should have. Really, it might’ve been flattering if she wasn’t so damn anxious again. “Alright, erm, thank you. Can you take me to her?”

“I-if you feel ready for a walk, then yes.” Cecile said, hiding her face behind a sleeve. The red, blooming blush she sported betrayed her snowy pale skin and white complexion quite terribly. Leaving the mug on counter at the kitchenette, she bid Avaron follow, and they moved into another tunnel.

One path turned into another, the whole complex feeling rather winding and complicated. The frigid nature of it became shockingly apparent, however, in spite of the candles lit everywhere. By the time they reached a door, Avaron’s feet felt like two frozen blocks, numbed to everything but the impact of walking. A wave of pure, relieving heat washed over her through the opening, immediately stirring goosebumps and post-warmth chills down her back. A fire burned at the center of the room, a chimney pipe coming straight down and catching all of it. Shutter-closed windows lined the walls, while all sorts of blankets, sheets, and pillows lined the stony floor.

Farther ahead and off to the side, she saw Tsugumi, sleeping on her side and facing the flames. And, despite the blankets covering her, rather obviously naked. “Is she alright?” Avaron asked in a low whisper.

“Hm? The snow soaked her clothes, but she found warmth before frost came,” Cecile said, looking rather reproachful. “To brave it as she is, is …”

“Believe me, I know,” Avaron said with a sigh, then waved it off. “But we’re all here now, at least. Right? Just the three of us?”

Cecile nodded with an agreeing sound.

That was one worry off her back. Heading across the room, Avaron gingerly approached Tsugumi and sat down by her. Running her fingers through the woman’s hair, the oiliness she remembered was gone and feeling rather fresh. _At least you got a bath in finally,_ she mused, remembering the muttering complaints on their journey earlier. Ever capable of roughing it, Tsugumi desperately wanted baths the whole time. A groan broke her thoughtful reverie, and she saw two of six eyes open with a weary blink. Then the other four snapped open, and Tsugumi jerked upward.

“Hey, not so quick,” Avaron said, holding Tsugumi’s shoulders while her eyes drifted to something rather noticeable. Tsugumi’s big, plump pregnant belly had grown in size! Definitely bigger than a woman in her final months, but not offensively so to her frame. Compared to the small bump she knew of a two weeks ago, it’d grown in size quite incredibly. A sharp, stinging slap across her face with a cracking sound send her head in the opposite direction, bobbling with stunned surprise.

“Asshole!” Tsugumi hissed, pissed as all the Hells.

“What are you slapping _me_ for?!” Avaron cried, recoiling and rubbing her cheek.

“Everything!”

If she might protest, Tsugumi yanking her into a side hug silenced it. The spider woman wrapped all four arms around her, the bump of her belly pressing in just as much. A kiss didn’t quite follow, Tsugumi burying her face into Avaron’s neck and breathing with loud, shaky breaths. Avaron, knowing well enough to shut the fuck up, returned the tight embrace, rubbing meaningless, soothing circles in Tsugumi’s back. She did spy Cecile, who stood by looking rather uncomfortable. A certain, third-wheel aura surrounded her, perhaps in a world yet to invent third-wheeling.

“Ah, ahem, right. What, uhh, what happened exactly?” Avaron said after a few minutes, regretfully parting from Tsugumi and her swelling bosom. The thought gave pause for a moment, for the spider woman’s breasts had quite delightfully grown in size too! Her modest chest before looked plump, nipples gorged and even while not erect, inviting in their swollen beauty. Tsugumi tutted at her staring, pushing her face away to avert her eyes.

“I caught you after the Flame priests threw you off the cliff,” she said simply. “Shadowpeak is their home. I had to sneak you out. I’d thought this village would still be here, ran by dorgians still … Hmph, to think they’d all left!”

“I don’t—how long was I out for?”

“A week, maybe.”

They’d be entering their second month soon, then, and still nowhere for Tsugumi to give birth. Avaron scratched at her head and set _that_ irritable thought aside. “That long?”

“A rather impressive feat compared to dying!” Tsugumi remarked sharply and smacked Avaron’s shoulder. “How did you even survive?! They used holy oil in those flames!”

Avaron rather took the hits as they came, a preferable choice if it helped Tsugumi’s irritation. “That would be my skill. I’m rather hard to kill, you see.”

Although, for her own sake, she checked again, opening the menus quickly and navigating. _A week is longer than I expected, though …_

[Divine Regeneration: Personal healing power comparable to the goddesses. So long as even a drop of blood remains, your entire body can regenerate to a prime, healthy state of being.

Heal from mortal blows in a matter of seconds.

Limbs can regrow in as little as a minute.

Certain regeneration impeding effects are negated completely.

Food is not required to fuel the regeneration process.

Immunity to diseases, both as a victim and a carrier.]

… _Maybe a combination of holy oil and fire did more damage than I can think of?_

“That is quite the combination to shrug off!” Tsugumi said, looking incredulous.

“Well, I came back, didn’t I?”

Pursing her lips, she crossed two of her arms, even as the one nearest to Avaron grabbed onto her still. “Hmph!”

“Ehmm, would you two like anything?” Cecile asked, oozing discomfort. They both started a little at her words and looked over.

“That soup would be wonderful,” Tsugumi said.

“Right! I’ll go make some, then.” Cecile sped her way out of the room, shutting the door with her tail on the way out.

“… Who is she, anyway?” Avaron asked, now that they were alone completely.

“A dreary story,” Tsugumi said with a sigh. She moved to lay down on her side, facing Avaron, pregnant belly and swollen breasts alike. “And quite telling.”

“What about?”

“Before I, ahem, met that unfortunate curse, I adventured with some others. Some years before we disbanded, we helped out this village—” Tsugumi waved a hand around them, “—and defeated a mighty beast. The dorgians were most grateful, and promised us aide whenever we needed it.”

“And they did?”

“Cecile did. The dorgians vanished many centuries ago.”

Avaron squinted suspiciously, the gears turning in her mind. “Then …”

“The curse kept me out of time, or prolonged my life, or … something. I think I am the oldest tora to live still.”

“… Congratulations?” Avaron offered lamely, and Tsugumi chuckled before hiding her face behind her hands.

“Centuries old, and a belly full of … drones. Life is mysterious.”

“Yeah, it is,” Avaron said with a nod, Tsugumi eyeballing her with a funny look all the while. They stayed like that for a moment, drinking in silence and their mutual presences.

“What now?” Tsugumi asked, one of her hands going to her round belly. “These little ones are getting fussy.”

With a mighty exhale, Avaron fell back onto the blanket beside Tsugumi, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t know,” she said before pinching the bridge of her nose. “Nerg betrayed me, so she’s gone. Gwyneth may have betrayed me, so I don’t know about her.”

“I do not think she did.”

“Why?”

“Woman’s intuition,” Tsugumi said with a secretive smile.

“… I’m gonna need more than that.”

“Trust me, as I trusted you.”

“I—ahh, blahblahblah, okay, fine. In that case, there really isn’t anything we can do to help her.” Avaron dragged her hands down her face, letting out a frustrated noise. “I’m not a fighter and there’s a whole city.”

“If the Order does not have her locked up, she may leave on her own?” Tsugumi offered, her many brows furrowing together.

“That … maybe? We can’t exactly wait to run into her again.”

“How about a letter?”

“A letter?” Avaron echoed.

“That is how my party coordinated when we split assignments. If we can find a postage business, I shall draft a letter for her.”

In the uncertain world where the stars aligned, the idea might work. Avaron kept her skepticism, however, rather not wanting to dampen the mood with her nay-saying. They’d have to find a postage office or something in the first place, and there was no telling when. The farther from Shadowpeak she got, the better. Staring up at the sloping ceiling, she watched the shadows dance across with their ever eternal partner, the firelight. A shuffling and rustle from beside her, however, drew attention.

Tsugumi wriggled across the gap between them, snuggling up and into Avaron. She buried her head into the crook of Avaron’s neck, threw a leg around hers, and squeezed tight in her four-armed hug. All of it, quite awkwardly compensating for how her big belly plopped on top of Avaron’s. Her toasty warmth and feminine softness quietly laid claim, something Avaron was all too glad to give up. Smiling, she kissed the top of Tsugumi’s head and gave her naked butt a hearty, possessive grope. “My, I’m lucky to have such an elegant, smart hostess.”

“Hm! Mmm.” Tsugumi purred approvingly, one hand running a finger on Avaron’s hips, the other coming to cup her breast. “Dear customer will have to pay up! Working this elegant me ragged, it’s impolite.”

“Sorry,” Avaron said, kissing Tsugumi’s head again. Bringing up a hand, she hesitated for a moment before laying it on Tsugumi’s belly, rubbing the taut skin soothingly. A girlish, pleased sound trilled out of the spider woman immediately, her whole body stretching in a preening, wanton desire. “Oh? Like that do you?”

“Your hand is so soft,” Tsugumi enthused with a low, purring drawl. “Unf, and warm! Really warm …”

Actually, maybe a little too warm as Avaron herself noticed. She lifted her head, in turn lifting Tsugumi’s, and the two of them looked down. There, where her white, porcelain-like flesh graced lilac-tinted belly, a soft, vibrant glow could be seen. Dragging her fingers and palm back and forth, Avaron couldn’t help notice how it seemed like one of those lightning ball toys. The ones that shot out of innocent electricity and followed your fingers when you touched the globe.

“Is something wrong?”

“Huh? No, no,” Avaron muttered, falling back onto the sheet. She started rubbing again just in case, squeezing Tsugumi’s pleasant little butt. “It’s fine. Do you, uhh, want a massage by chance?”

“Oh, do you offer one?”

“Can’t imagine your back is happy right now.”

“It … is, as it happens to be.”

Avaron’s brow curled upward disbelievingly. “Really?”

“Quite.”

“I’d heard pregnancy and all the, uhh, extra stuff really makes it sore?”

“I cannot move too quickly now, but no, I am not sore. Not as much as I thought I would be, remembering how my mother complained about my sisters …”

“Huh. Wonder if that’s one of my other skills.”

“… A skill that makes child carrying easier? Oh, I have one now! ‘Brood Mother’ … brood, mother … ?”

Avaron blinked, rather recalling how that title appeared in her ‘relationships’ tab before. “What does it say? Unless you’re going to hide that, too.”

“Hmm.” Tsugumi sounded rather undecided about the fact, her attention quite clearly busy elsewhere. “What an interesting skill you’ve given me, oh queen.”

“You tease,” Avaron growled, giving a light, painless smack to Tsugumi’s butt. The spider woman chirped and wiggled with a giggle. “I do need to know about it if others acquire it.”

“’If’? My, am I to be alone in the harem?”

“I would rather everyone agree with each other …” A sigh answered back, rather surprising Avaron.

“Not everyone will, or not always. But who are we to deny your desires, if you find someone new?”

“I’d rather not have constant fighting in my house,” Avaron said dryly.

“You worry over that which has not come to pass.”

“Worrying is like, everything I have to do,” Avaron griped, her free hand lifting up in a pointless gesture. “Don’t think you’re not telling me about that skill.”

“Dear customer is rather demanding,” Tsugumi remarked sullenly, but her fake act didn’t work at all on Avaron. A rather _insistent_ squeeze on her butt continued until she finally spoke. “The skill [Brood Mother]. It says …

[Chosen by a tentradom queen to carry and birth her young. Babies and drones will inherit your combined strengths, but only babies will carry a will of their own as your mutual children.

Increased fertility and receptivity to impregnation from the queen; others can no longer impregnate you.

Your body will adjust to carry and birth young more frequently and with less side-effects. Higher levels will eventually negate all downsides, and decrease total gestation time.

The pains of child rearing will gradually transform into pleasure. The second greatest joy will be to give birth~

Your breasts will begin milking and never cease again. Feed the queen your milk, for it is vital to her and the hive. The quantity of the milk will depend on your breast sizes; the quality will increase with higher levels.

To level up this skill further, you must successfully birth the queen’s offspring repeatedly.]”

Two notable things stood out to Avaron. One, the game-like skill system was definitely something other people had. Two, like her, Tsugumi’s [Brood Mother] skill relied on sex, or at least getting knocked up and giving birth. A third realization came to mind, one that rather concerned her. _I can give other people skills. Obviously it’s connected to me, but is it possible to acquire random sex skills?_

There may be far more than she knew.

“Wait, what was it about the milk?” Avaron said, the rest of her mind catching up.

“Mm, once my little ones here swell up, won’t you drink it?” Tsugumi asked, a hand curling around her breast seductively. It groped lightly, distorting and pushing it with such blatant invitation. “I promise I will taste delicious.”

Avaron gulped nervously, rather finding the idea quite tantalizing. She wasn’t at all certain that was just her being excited—she hadn’t quite a milk fetish before reincarnating! “S-sure,” she sputtered out. “But, that other part … “vital to me and the hive”. It’s rather curious …”

“Is that not normal?” Tsugumi asked.

_Oh. Right. Everyone thinks I’m a natural born tentradom._ Avaron kissed the top of Tsugumi’s head again. “It’s totally normal. I’m just surprised your skill told you about it.”

“What is special about it?”

The door opened then, much to Avaron’s silent thanks. Cecile walked in, a big wooden tray in her arms. She paused mid-step when she caught sight of them, quite naked and cuddling as they were. “Oh! Oh, oh, umm …” she sputtered, her face reddening.

“Ready that fast?” Avaron asked, patting Tsugumi. The two rose up together then, simultaneously finger-combing their messy hair into place again.

“Yes! Yes, the food, it is ready. Umm, please, come,” Cecile stuttered, stepping all the way in. Her long tail shut the door, and she approached the toasty fire place in the room’s center. She cleared out a spot and set the tray down, before shuffling the blankets and pillows. In creating three distinct seats, she took one while Avaron and Tsugumi got up, walked over, and sat down on the other two. Clasping her hands in her lap, Cecile looked back and forth, her eyes rather betraying her constant looking toward their chests.

Or the womanly pace between their thighs.

Not quite seductively, she seemed more a squirrel with too many choices in front of it and no brain to figure out what to do.

“Bread?” Avaron asked, eying the round loafs of black-colored something.

“Oh! Yes. I figured something special, to celebrate your good health.”

“Thank you. Is it, uh, your custom for me to break it, or you?”

“It’s for you.”

“Mm, alright then!”

In breaking up the big loaf of black bread, Avaron handed off huge chunks to the others, somewhat evenly dividing it into the thirds. That left their wooden soup bowls, filled with a mysterious brown liquid that had a rather okay smell to it. Nothing fancy, but it tantalized her hungry belly all the same. In picking up a wooden spoon, she slurped up a mouthful of almost scalding-hot liquid. Quickly breaking away, she sucked and blowed, hurriedly cooling her mouth. “Hot, hot hot hot!” she whined, much to Tsugumi’s snorting laugh.

“Oh! It’s fresh, be careful!” Cecile said worriedly, her tail picking up with a quick flip-flop of its tip.

Aaand just like that, the pain vanished suddenly. _Thanks, [Divine Regeneration]_. Avaron kept blowing on it still, gently stirring the thick soup and the odd chunks submerged in it. Without anything to do, the silence between them felt rather awkward. Cecile, it seemed, was rather interested in her soup. “So! Uh, Tsugumi told me about this place a little, but I’m still curious. You live here, Cecile?”

“Hm? Oh, yes! Um, just me, I live here by myself. My home, that is.”

_A cute, beautiful face, a bombastic body, and some rather exotic features. Ah, but a nervous girl underneath all of it._ Avaron nodded. “It looks nice! The uh, few areas I’ve seen so far.”

“Mm, I try to keep it clean, but …” Cecile scratched her cheek, rather pointedly showing the thick, monstrous claw growing out of her finger. Maybe two, if not three inches, of a smooth, ridged weapon. “Sweeping is hard with the winds.”

“One does what they can,” Avaron said with a shrug. “So, tell me about it! Your home, that is.”

Cecile’s eyes lit up, and she started off. Throughout dinner, the back-and-forth of the village that once-was relived itself in Cecile’s words. Avaron didn’t hear anything especially amazing—hunting, mining, the old gripes she had with others her age. Still, the small talk being what it was, it passed the dinner splendidly, the soup and bread alike disappearing. By the end of it, the trays had been set aside, and Avaron was sitting in a nest of blankets and pillows. Tsugumi splayed across her lap, rather _undignified_ if uncaring about it. Cecile seemed more comfortable with their nakedness, but her skin remained red-rosy and flushed.

“Are you alright?” Avaron asked, running her fingers across Tsugumi’s scalp. A rather soothing action, to both of them it seemed.

“I’m fine?” Cecile returned certainly.

“Your face has been red for a while.”

“Oh? Oh! Yes, it’s quite warm in here, isn’t it?” Cecile laughed, fingering the collar of her thin robe. “I should leave for you two to get some rest.”

“Before you do, there is something I’m curious about.”

“Yes, what?” Cecile asked, and goodness she exuded an adorable energy. It almost reminded Avaron of one of those peppy, always going college girls but far less experienced in living that way.

“It’s just, how long have you lived here by yourself?” Often she heard ‘the color drained from the face’, but never so literally as right then. All of Cecile’s bubbly hotness drained into a dreary, depressed smile. Realizing all-too-late how much of a sore spot it was, Avaron waved her hand. “Let me rephrase that. We’ll be leaving when the weather is good and I’m all together gain. Do you want to come with us?”

“L-leave with you?” Cecile chirped, her words dubious. She looked away and rubbed her arm, brow furrowing. “That’s, ehm, kind of you, but I cannot.”

“It’s not some magical curse, right? Tsu here—gack!” Avaron horked at the sudden, pierce jab of fingers into her side. “What?! It’s true.”

“Do not speak as if I am not here,” Tsugumi remarked dryly.

“It’s nothing of the sort,” Cecile said, smiling demurely.

“All the same!” Avaron said, throwing her hands up in the air at Tsugumi’s pouting. “You’re welcome to come with us. A good woman like you shouldn’t have to live alone.”

Cecile scratched her head. “Ah, thank you. I need to take care of these dishes! Mold is rather dangerous here.” Flashing a smile and moving with a quickness that betrayed her, the dorgian gathered up all bowls and leftovers onto her tray. “Please, have a good night.”

“We will,” Tsugumi said, smirking.

A little bit of color bled into Cecile’s cheeks again, and she bowed her head before hurrying out. In the silence of her departure, Avaron sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

“… In the time I’ve been here,” Tsugumi said in a low voice, “I figured out some things.”

“Oh?”

“The dorgians left to live in other lands. Cecile, however, did _something_ bad enough to warrant exile. She’s remained here ever since, for hundreds of years.”

“Like, murder, or …?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t give that impression, if she did.”

“Still, all the same. Hundreds of years in isolation is a harsh punishment in and of itself.”

“You don’t say.”

“Wait, ho—hurk!” Another jab right into Avaron’s side. Then another, and another. She bore it all, letting Tsugumi vent herself while she pouted rather adorably.

It would be, they eventually fell asleep with Avaron cuddling Tsugumi from behind, both too tired to try anything fun for the night.

*~*

Crunch, crunch, crunch. The snow underfoot, however light it was, filled her ears with its comfortable sound. _At least that’s still the same,_ Avaron thought, hefting the sack on her back again. In her great kindness, Cecile had imparted upon them clothes, fabrics, a metal pot, bowls, and all kinds of _very needed_ items for roughing it in the wilds. Although quite aged, they kept well enough. “You’re positive about our direction?” she asked Tsugumi, leading the way ahead.

“The village may be deserted but the roadways are the same. Descending in the east there will be a forest, and an old spring next to a cave.”

“I hope we get there in time.”

“… We should.”

Still, Avaron couldn’t help stopping and looking back, gazing at the stone buildings far behind them. Half-built into a mountainous face, it reminded her of Shadowpeak, if far, far more rustic. No lights to be seen, no movement, just a silent, lightly snow-covered ruin. Cecile’s sad smile lingered in her mind, and she grit her teeth.

“Avaron?” Tsugumi asked uncertainly.

“It just isn’t right,” Avaron said, turning back. She marched up to and beyond Tsugumi, heading down the roadway. “Leaving her there like that.”

For once, Tsugumi had nothing to say, her own eyes tight as any who would be stuck in an unsolvable situation.

They had their own problems to sort out first.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Lukewarm Intrigue

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger


	10. Hive Rising

_If a person lives for eternity without speaking, did they live at all?_

*~*

“Please tell me this is it.”

“This is it.”

“Thank the goddesses!” Avaron enthused, falling to her knees and throwing her hands up in exaltation. “No more walking!

A rocky wall ahead of them, ostensibly a small cliff but more of a mountainside, gushed with a beautiful, sparkling river. The gaping maw of a cave loomed ahead, half of it spitting forth the river, the other half looking rather curious. Wooden support beams framed the entrance, and a smoothed out, compact dirt floor led the way in. Very much the aftermath of a mining operation, once-upon-a-time, hardly anything remained except wooden work stumps, some broken planks, and other worthless debris. The river pooled into a large spring—or a small lake—nearby, its edges lined with rocks quite deliberately put there for foundation. From the small lake, another river bled out into the forest they just now emerged from.

Truly, a sight to set her heart at ease.

“I cannot believe someone mined here!” Tsugumi said, shrill with anger. “What a waste of a good spring!”

“Look on the bright side?” Avaron said, drawing three dry looking eyes toward her. “The caves probably got sealed up or cleaned out of anything living in them.”

“If nothing moved in since.”

“I—right, yeah. Well, let’s, uhh, drop our packs off there by the entrance and take a look.”

The landing—or work area—was fairly spacious, if overgrown with grass and small plants. Between the mine’s entrance and the edge of the forest, she might two or three big houses, so it wasn’t likely anything could sneak across their new front yard. Avaron had an eye out for nails or other rusty pieces of metal, but the whole place seemed ‘clean’. Or rather, someone had cleaned it up at one point, and the debris piles were overgrown. More importantly, she didn’t smell anything except plants and water.

“It might be clear,” Avaron said cautiously. “I don’t smell crap or anything animals leave behind.”

“… Smell?”

“My sense of smell is, well, rather strong. It’s hard to explain, but I notice everything for a good distance.”

“I—I see.”

Avaron looked over curiously, but Tsugumi seemed far too busy fussing over her hair suddenly. “Still, might be something inside. How do you want to check it out?”

“Someone of my experience can clear out a simple cave without issue.”

“Pregnant and by yourself? Listen we both know I’ll survive damn near anything at this point. Can you do some magic attacks or something while I act as bait?”

Tsugumi puffed her cheeks up for a moment, but quickly schooled herself. Such a quick, jarring transition spoke well of her professionalism. “My webs can shine with light and carry a sharply bladed edge. It will be slower, but quite safe.”

“Your webs can make light?”

“The [Illumination] spell makes things glow brightly like a torch. A useful trick back when I had a party.”

“Yeah, for real,” Avaron said, her brows rising with a rather impressed face. “Okay, I’ll find a stick here, you wrap your webs around it and I’ll have my torch. I take lead, and you do your work from behind.”

“That should work.”

All their traveling packs and baggage off, Avaron felt rather light on her feet. She found a broken pole around four feet in length, and Tsugumi made the sticky, knobbed end of spider silk. Holding her hands near it, the silk came alive with a faint lilac glow that brightened and brightened. As painful to look at as any other torch, it seemed well even in the outside daylight. Nodding in satisfaction, she said, “Okay. I’m ready. You?”

“Ready.”

Avaron turned toward the cave-slash-mine entrance. A yawning darkness awaited, broken by the sound of running water. Not quite a roar, nor a babble, but one that would certainly hide other noises. She sucked in a breath and tried to steel herself. _Can’t believe I’m fuckin’ doing this but,_ she thought, boldly stepping forward. Silk torch held in front, she looked around, only finding a tunnel straight ahead.

“Okay, so—”

Two strands of silk shot over her, plastering across the jagged ceiling. Lilac light soon followed, glowing bright enough the darkness disappeared for quite a way. Avaron blinked, staring at the dark cave turned hallway in front of her. She looked over her shoulder at Tsugumi, who remained keenly focused. _Alright, that’s on me,_ Avaron thought before heading in deeper.

Some work had been done to smooth out the path. A small barrier guarded against the running water on the left. The floor and walls alike had been roughly sanded down, while the ceiling remained in its natural form. For a good minute at their pace, it was a simple way inward. However, a mouth in the wall appeared on her right, more wooden supports framing the entrance. Avaron squinted, keeping her distance but ever slowly peaking around the corner. “A tunnel,” she said in a low voice. One that had been mined at some point, the hallmarks of tools on every surface there was.

“Can you shoot that web down here?”

“A moment.”

Tsugumi came in close, and extending her hand around Avaron, aimed with her fingers. A magical light lit between them, and a long, jetting strand of silk shot out. It plastered across the ground, forming a long, luminous line that lit the entire tight space rather quickly. In all, just a tunnel that didn’t go very far, nothing at all to be found. “Looks clear to me?” Avaron asked.

“It’s clear.”

“Alright, onward then.”

They found another, similar tunnel not too far ahead. In repeating their routine, they discovered the same result. Then they found another, then another, and so on. “It looks like prospecting,” Avaron said between their tunnel checks. “Looking for shallow metal reserves or something.”

“They must’ve found something.”

“Why do you think?”

“If they didn’t the floor wouldn’t be this sculpted.”

“Ah, fair point,” Avaron conceded with a nod.

The mundaneness of the checking wore on, six tunnels becoming twelve. The deeper they went, the calmer the air became, the outside light all gone now. Only Tsugumi’s lilac glow illuminated their world, bright as it was in its purplish tinge. “How deep does this go?” Avaron asked.

“There is a waterfall inside, the path should end before it.”

“Mm, I see.”

A dull roar soon filled the air, the ever distinct sound of water crashing down from on-high. True to Tsugumi’s words, their path ended before a deep, watery lake within the cave. A mighty stream blasted down into it, foaming and churning a haze of mist. One last prospecting tunnel remained, itself no real different than the others. “Is that all of it?” Avaron asked in a yell over the loud waterfall.

“Yes, I think it’s safe!” Tsugumi returned.

“Let’s get out, then! Doublecheck as we do so!”

*~*

By the time they reached outside again, the sun had noticeably dipped from late afternoon toward twilight. Not quite orange heavens and looming darkness, but getting there. Avaron found some stumps, and with a bit of heavy lifting, brought them over to their supplies. The two then sat down, collecting themselves.

“Well, at least it’s clear. That’ll make the rest of this pretty easy.”

“The rest of what?”

“Err … building our home?”

“You’re a carpenter?” Tsugumi asked with a disbelieving look.

“No …? Oh, wait, the goddesses didn’t send a message about that, did they?”

“No?”

“Ah, wonderful, I can have some secrets of my own then.” Tsugumi wasn’t that amused even if Avaron couldn’t help chuckling. “We, uh, will have to figure out something in the short term here. But, don’t worry. Goddesses as my witness, I promise you’ll have a nice home and some real, good comforts.”

Tsugumi blinked all six eyes unevenly for a moment, her face darkening slightly with a blush. She hid behind her hands, knees locking together as she squirmed on the spot. “Oh, my own home! Really?” she asked, a touch high in tone and peeking out between her fingers.

Avaron rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. “It, uh, might not be as fancy as that inn of yours. It’ll take some work for me.”

“W-well!” Tsugumi crossed all four arms and stuck her nose up. “I certainly hope not! My family worked at that inn for … well, generations. Of which I’m the last, undoubtedly. Nevermind that!” She waved a hand dismissively. “We shall make a new inn out here.”

“Uh, would there even be other people out here?” Avaron asked. “Isn’t this kind of the ass end of nowhere?”

“Not quite. This spring borders elvetahn lands—” Tsugumi pointed out to the forest they kind of skirted the edge of. “They are reclusive, but they will trade for my silks. To the, hmm, south-ish direction, there was once the border city of humans that traded with them. Unless they all up and left like the dorgians as well!”

Avaron smirked seeing that pouting, irritable face. Then two plus two equaled five in her mind and she did a double-take. “Sorry, hold up. Elvetahn?”

“Hm? The humans called them _elves_ but they hate that.”

“Uh, tall, skinny, beautiful? Big ears, ethereal air and stupidly long live-spans?”

“Yes? That’s them.”

Avaron squinted. _Suddenly quite fearful for my tenty again. Oh, no, let’s not imagine what elven pussy is like. Nope. Not thinking about it. Noooot—_ “So, anyway!” she coughed out. “I’ll uh, get to work on some shelter here. I could use the help with your webbing, though.”

“For what?”

“Plaster, binding agent, reinforcement, that sort of stuff. There’s enough scrap wood leftover here I think I can make something.” Tsugumi looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “What?”

“… Using my webbing for that?”

“Can I—Can I not?”

Tsugumi hid her lips behind her hand, but her cheeks lifted in the most mysterious smile. “Such an odd idea. Go on, then, my dear queen, how shall I work?”

Goodness she was being teased and Avaron couldn’t help the _delighted_ shiver down her back. The enthusiasm and sweet, submissive tone tickled some part of her brain in an oh-so specific way. A very primal way that was more about doing something unspeakable in polite company. Avaron quickly stood up and stretched, all-too-aware her once distant sex-drive quickly reigniting again. “Alright! I’ll start clearing out a spot here and …”

The idea started out simply enough in her mind, but two problems became apparent when Avaron started doing the work. One: she hadn’t gone camping since she was a kid, and two: only the goddesses knew if any of what she made would stick up. Thankfully, she had a lot of spare material laying around in reasonably ‘decent’ condition. Some wood was rotting and ended up thrown out, while all the leftover nails and such she _carefully_ collected into a broken box. Still, perhaps Tsugumi’s webbing would be the saving grace.

Her chosen spot was next to the cave/mind entrance. The wall curved somewhat, enough that a good pole at a certain angle made a simple box layout. By using the web to connect the pole to the walls, she had a loose frame. The rest came down to stacking up the leftover parts into the walls, while leaving a gap for a ‘door’. By the time night fell, her ingenious design stood as a six-foot, walled-in enclosure and a gap against the stony wall for an entrance. She managed to half-cover the ‘roof’ with the big blanket she’d wrapped most of their supplies in.

Stepping in through the entrance, Avaron looked around the small enclosure, good enough for a sleeping area, all their backpack supplies, and a fire pit against the stone wall. Tsugumi followed in after, looking around inquisitively. “Now that the webbing has had time to dry …” Avaron muttered and gave the slapped-together wall a bit of a shove. It groaned and thumped, but surprisingly held up. A few more hits in different locations affirmed all of it holding up surprisingly well. Despite its completely ramshackle, woodplanks-at-odd-angles and gunky, solidified spider web gluing it all together.

“Awesome!” Avaron declared and thrust a hand out toward Tsugumi. The spider woman jumped a little and looked at it dubiously. “Uh, high five?”

“High what?”

“Slap your hand into mine.”

Half of Tsugumi’s brows rose up in perplexity, but she did so, their (dummy thicc) hands clapping together softly.

“Yay, we did it!” Avaron enthused with a smile that made Tsugumi snort-giggle. “Okay, it’s not the greatest, but it’ll do for now.”

“It’s certainly, uhm, interesting.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Avaron waved it off. “Go ahead and rest, I’ll make dinner.” A hand on her shoulder decided to move her from their backpacks to their bedding area. Tsugumi smiled with a look that brokered no argument.

“I’ll cook.”

“But—”

“Sit.”

Avaron plopped down onto a stump, now a shoddy chair/stool. “I _can_ cook, you know.”

“I would do more than sit around and string my webbing everywhere.”

To be certain, Avaron did the vast majority of the heavy lifting. She had Tsugumi apply the material and shape it, but as far as moving parts or laying it down, that was all her. Blowing a gentle raspberry, she nonetheless kept her peace about the matter. Slouching forward, elbows on her knees and head resting on her hands, she stared at the ground. _Well, now that this is all done, what is there to do … something, something, growing the Hive?_

She opened her menu and took a look through the [Hive Management] section.

_Hmm. [Growth Management]?_

[There is no nearby Hive Growth to manage. To create a new Hive Growth, you must _assimilate_ part of the local environment.]

Avaron’s brow furrowed and a helpful info box popped up.

[To begin environmental assimilation, deposit a _Queen’s Ovipositor_.]

_Now hold up a second there, miss info-box. What?_

[The thing you use to cum and knock up women with.]

Avaron did a double-take, but the window that had popped up vanished just as quick as it came. _That … okay?_ She wasn’t too on the uptake how her tenty could do something like that. _How do I even—_ A sudden, rather _jarring_ squirm came from her belly. So strong was it she stood up immediately, a keen, instinctual feeling that told her _something wanted out_. “I, uhh, need to do something. I’ll be right back,” she offered lamely and hurried out before Tsugumi even said anything. Dead-ass sprinting into the cave-mine, the faint light of the magical webbing yet remained, although far dimmer.

Water, a lot of water. She needed that _right now_.

In reaching the end of the path, and the roar of the waterfall drowning out everything, Avaron stopped and climbed over the safety fence. The frigid water rose up to her tits, but solid ground met her feet thankfully. A churning, jarring movement in her guts followed, almost bucking her knees and sending her face first into the water. Avaron frantically ripped down her pants, barely getting one let out before another spasm came. Sucking air and huffing out every breath, she squeezed up against the wall behind her.

“Oh, sweet, merciful fuuuuuuuuu—” Avaron went cross-eyed as a mighty, lurching slither descending down her gut. It wasn’t just her tentacle anymore! Something bigger, bulbous and squirming followed after it. Never waiting nor pitiful, her pussy lips spread open as the tentacle peaked out. Wriggling with ever greater excitement, it extended, and extended, and extended. The bulge in her belly left out in a mighty, silent _pop_ as the whole organ finally broke free. Avaron gasped aloud as it released, her held breath finally breaking. Even the frigid water felt hot around her, though the warmth quickly bled away in the current. Blinking her blurry eyes, Avaron couldn’t see anything of her tentacle anymore in the darkness.

A darkness she sat in and couldn’t see through.

Fear, more than any other overwhelming sensation, made her scramble up and over the wall. Falling onto the dry floor with a sloshing, wet-plop, she laid on her back, catching her breath. Thankfully, her pants remained hooked on one of her legs.

A menu popped up in front of her eyes.

[The Hive Growth will begin assimilating the local environment.]

“Cool, thanks,” Avaron said, panting. “I want a report on my desk before lunch tomorrow.”

No window popped up at that request. If the Goddesses really did speak through the windows, she found them rather lacking in humor.

Ah, but how to explain to Tsugumi why she was sopping wet?

*~*

Morning rolled around, punctuated by chirping birds and noisy insects, alive and well. Avaron blinked her sleepy eyes and reflexively stretched—or, one half of her did. The other half was buried under Tsugumi and her naked, if blanket covered, weight. Avaron looked around their enclosure, finding the slab-for-a-door was still in place and all their stuff was where it should be. _This ‘go to sleep and pray’ shit is for the birds. I need a way better security system._

One more issue on her plate, she gently nudged Tsugumi awake. The two of them dressed, and while Tsugumi unpacked more of their food supplies, Avaron was busy striking stones at the fire pit. “Oh, come on,” she muttered under her breath. “I get it in the first two tries yesterday and this does fuck all?” She’d kill for a lighter or a box of matches. “Dry kindling, small sticks to start …”

Tink, tink, tink went the striking stones.

“Good morning!” came a man’s voice from outside their enclosure.

Their two heads snapped toward each other at the sound, both their brows shooting up. Avaron slowly rose up as Tsugumi lowered the food in her hands down, her fingers flexing awake.

“Now don’t be unneighborly or anything!” the man said with a gay laugh. “I’m just here to talk, maybe cut a deal.”

“And who are you?” Avaron asked back loudly.

“Name’s Tahn! Or so the small folk call me.”

“… Tahn, the father of the elvetahn?” Tsugumi asked, sounding rather perplexed.

“That’s right!”

Tsugumi looked upward and smiled bemusedly, and Avaron did the same. Over them towered a tree with a face, built with the body of a boyish looking man. Skin of bark, hair of leaves, but otherwise very much a person if one actually recognized him as one.

“Say, don’t I know you?” Tahn asked, curling a hand under his chin. “Don’t see much tora around these parts.”

“I’m Tsugumi. My party came by here a couple hundred years ago and helped kill the plagued beast.”

“Ohh, that’s right! I recognize you now!” he said, slapping a fist into his palm, rattling all the leaves on his gigantic frame. “Say, how are you still alive? Tora don’t live this long.”

“It’s a long-short story. Magic.”

“Ah, always is. Golly, this does make my request a lot more easy.”

The two women looked at each other, and Avaron asked, “What request?”

“Well, you see,” Tahn said, and leaned up against the wall their enclosure used. “I’m in a bit of a snare here. One of my daughters is being right unruly, really angry and just unpleasant to be around. And her whole queendom isn’t doing the best, either.”

“O-kay …” Avaron said, her gaze dragging toward Tsugumi. “Who is this guy?”

“Tahn, the all-father of the elvetahn. He’s a god.”

“Let me guess, fertility, nature, drinking and partying?”

“Hey, how’d you know?!” Tahn said with a laugh.

“Lucky guess,” Avaron remarked dryly. “So what do you want from us, then?”

“Ah, not her—” Tahn said, pointing with a big finger at Tsugumi, then toward Avaron, “—you.”

“Me?”

“That fine goddess of yours told me you’d be a real help. Now that I’m thinking about it, a week or month or two with a tentradom might be great for my daughter.”

“Why?”

“Fuck the anger out of her, of course! Who can be mad after great sex?”

“I don’t think that’d work for long …” Avaron said, with the utmost care and neutrality in her voice.

Tahn blinked and nodded, curling a fist under his chin. “Mm, no, you’re right. Ah, I know! A marriage!”

“You can do that?”

“I am Tahn. They will listen if they wish to remain in my forests.”

_Seeing a bit of a subtle threat there toward me too, you know._ Avaron hemmed and hawed before looking over toward Tsugumi. “Well, what’s your vote?”

Six eyes blinked and Tsugumi smiled warmly. “I adore your asking of me, dear customer. There’s much for us to gain from it, is there not?”

“I mean, maybe …”

“Let us meet her first and see.”

“Ah, that does give me an idea.” In turning back to look up at Tahn, Avaron saw him looking down quite interestedly at them. “Alright, so you want me to marry your daughter. Who is she, exactly?”

“Efval Gladestride, a queen or something with the others.”

Avaron rubbed her temple, trying to stave off that whole slew of problems she knew was coming. “Okay, what are you offering me in return?”

Tahn blinked and seemed a bit taken aback. “Is her hand not enough?”

“Going out of my way to marry your daughter for my whole life, here.”

“Oh, true, true,” Tahn said with a sagely nod, leaves falling off his head at the motion. “What do you want?”

The gay, whimsical tone flattened—not to be threatening, but whether it was seriousness or displeasure, Avaron couldn’t tell. Tapping her chin in thought, she stood for a moment, squinting and looking around, wracking her brain. _Protection? No, his daughter might offer that along with her queendom. Riches, too. Something from him, something from a forest god … ah, actually!_ She slapped a fist into her palm, feeling a proverbial light bulb go off. “You’re a god, right? Can you grant skills?”

“… To an extent,” Tahn said, rather blatantly curious in his voice now.

“Okay, here’s my terms. You want me to marry your daughter; I want your botanical knowledge.”

“Botanical?”

“Err, knowledge of plants, fungi, trees. You know, what’s edible, what’s poisonous …”

“Oh. Ohh! Interesting!” Tahn laughed, the deep sound rattling their ears. “I didn’t think you an alchemist.”

“I’m not, I’m just stupid when it comes to living in a forest.”

“Ah? Ahaha!”

Avaron had to resist covering her ears at his laughing again. She worried their enclosure might collapse, but the walls just kept rattling. When Tahn finally quieted down, he seemed in high spirits. Or, something like it, with flowers literally blooming across his bark-like body and birds coming to eat out of them. He crouched down and extended his head toward them, his huge body creaking and groaning.

“It’s a deal then. You marry my daughter, I grant my knowledge to you.”

Avaron looked at Tsugumi, who nodded approvingly, and looked back to Tahn. She grasped his finger as best she could and shook, which was mostly just her arm moving up and down. As soon as the agreement was made, tendrils of spindly green light crawled through Tahn’s finger, racing down her arm. She reflexively jerked away and stared as they faded into her. Superstitiously turning her hand over and pulling up her raggedy sleeve, she found no marks or anything left over.

[You have gained _Forest God’s Knowledge: Botany_ lv.1 (Special)]

[By observing plants, fungi, and other associated matter, you will come to recall vast knowledge concerning them. The level of this skill will increase with every observation, and all relevant knowledge to a specific item will become available upon observation. All previously observed items can be recalled with perfect memory.]

_Oh, good, it doesn’t blast my brain with a huge download or something._ Avaron sighed with relief and rubbed the back of her neck. _At least I can forage now and find something that won’t kill us the second we lick it._

“Ah, wonderful!” Tahn said, drawing himself back. “I shall send your wife to soon! Maybe a few days, with how—”

“Ah.”

Tsugumi’s simple, dry exclamation accompanied a sudden dripping sound. Avaron looked over and found her legs suddenly soaked in something wet and odd smelling. All six of her ruby eyes were wide, and her hands were on her belly, no longer quite as round as it used to be. “Tsu?” Avaron asked hesitantly.

“My water broke.”

“Oh. Oh, shit.”

“And that’s my sign to leave!” Tahn said with a laugh, turning around and stepping away. Despite his enormous size, the earth didn’t move at all. “Best of luck you two!”

And so Avaron and Tsugumi discovered the joys of giving birth—or, more correctly, Tsugumi laying white-skinned, lilac veined eggs and each one triggering a mini-orgasm. You know, until she passed out ahegao style and Avaron was left with another traumatic experience since visiting this world.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Lukewarm Intrigue

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger


	11. Imminent Threat

_Life conspires always._

*~*

Richly bright mahogany eyes swept through the thinning forest, ever alert for danger. She need not to, for her elite guard did well in covering every possible angle of attack. Efval still did so all the same, ever more the warrior than any of her servants. It was she who led at the front, and she who yelled at them to march, after all. Were it not for her grand commandments, they would’ve lost more of their land—if not all of it. She clenched her teeth at the thought, shapely upturned, round eye convulsing with barely-repressed anger.

Not only did she have a war on her hands, her damnable forebearer turned up out of nowhere!

_Praise Tahn, our great father, and spit upon his nonsensical decisions!_ she seethed in the refuge of her mind. A _marriage_? Now, of all bloody times? Worse, invoking his right as lineage bearer, she hadn’t anything to refuse! The priestess became ecstatic and her advisors all rather lively at the thought of a new king on the throne. _Her_ throne.

She’d slit their throat on the spot if the All-Father hadn’t made it clear they were protected.

For how great an injustice it was, it wouldn’t be the first she endured.

In the name of her people, she’d sell out to ensure the All-Father’s blessings continued. They scarce couldn’t afford such great boons being taken away. It truly might spell the end of the elvetahn if he decided to.

Oh, but how she dearly _wished_ she could kill them. It would be such wonderful relief spraying his putrid blood across the earth and feed the woods. The caribou underneath her reared back for a moment, a misstep of some kind. She turned a disdainful look upon the path ahead, rough and wild. It lacked splendor and beauty, befitting of the farthest edge of the great Alva Forest. Whoever lived out so far undoubtedly had to been an outcast, or some other undesirable unneeded in her queendom.

Then again, recluses can often sometimes be amongst the most powerful.

If luck favored her, Tahn found some hidden gem that would secure their borders and bring prosperity. Hopefully someone with enough sense to do what she said. Efval really didn’t care to let someone else cause a mess for her to clean up. She squinted, staring ahead at that ever-clearer view of a sloping mountainous face. The river they’d been following led into it, perhaps a hidden cave or something.

“Clemina,” Efval said, and the head of her guard headed up alongside her immediately. Dressed in a full-body light armor, the white-padded cloth sat snug beneath green armor plates, carrying a regal air befitting of their role. “What is this place?”

“The source of the Bahnda River. I remember the maps saying a human company tried prospecting here, but never found anything.”

Efval squinted. _Who would live in an abandoned mine?_

She really rather hoped the All-Father had the decency to find someone of _some_ skill. Spending quite literally hours polishing her fine, richly brown skin, arranging her white hair into spiraling loops, _and_ getting rare Eternium flowers to frame her moonsilver crown. Not to mention the fitting of the dress, which rather complicated the armor she _absolutely_ must wear when leaving the safety of the palace. Only an idiot would walk out in an uncertain land without some kind of protection.

It truly tested her to not let her mind run wild with speculation.

Instead, Efval snapped her hand forward in a point. Much of her guard went ahead, scouting the area.

Hanging back at the edge of the clearing, she awaited their signal. A person, then another, left out of some sort of shack near the mine’s entrance. One was dressed in rather exotic looking robes—no, more akin to a dress, she realized. Squinting her sharp eyes, she found the other lacking in their own attire. Brown pants, shirt, and a cloak of some kind befitting a traveler or other nobody. Or, perhaps a servant? That fit the idea better in her mind.

One of the forward guards raised a hand, signaling the all-clear.

“I am rather curious as to who the All-Father found, your majesty,” came Bisnar’s remark as he putted his caribou up alongside hers. “I hadn’t thought there to be any talented people left we didn’t know of.”

Efval glanced at the queendom minister, dressed in his white and green robes of office. Ever the astute soul with a clean-cut face, his calculative expression hid behind a colorful pair of monarch butterfly-esque glasses. She’d rather he not accompany along, but his damnably long ears heard all the same. “That is all the more concerning,” she said after a moment, and then _encouraged_ her caribou forward. The rest of them, likewise, followed suit. “That would mean someone not of the forest, and I doubt the people shall accept a foreigner.”

“In the past, perhaps not,” Bisnar said agreeingly in his round-about manner. “Perhaps it is what is needed now, however.”

“You dare to say we elvetahn need others?” Efval asked, the serenity of her tone dripping with acid.

“… We are being pushed back, your majesty. If there is not a dramatic change in course, then—”

“Enough.”

Bisnar quieted immediately, bowing his head even if Efval didn’t see it.

“We have no need of outsiders; least of all one lone person given something they do not deserve. We shall do as the All-Father bids, but it is our own strength that will see us through.”

“… As you say, your majesty.”

They collectively pulled into the clearing in front of the shack, her guard forming a semi-circle with her at the center. At the other end stood the two people, one of six ruby-colored eyes and lilac skin, the other the whitest shade she’d ever seen. In fact, the white one looked more like a statue that could move around than any person, especially with its bizarrely blue veins and connective tissues. _A golem?_ Efval wondered, her narrowed eyes sizing up the six eyed woman instead. “You are a tora?” she asked.

“I am.”

“Strange. Your kind do not live in my forest.”

“No, we don’t,” the tora said with a rueful smile.

“What business do you have here?”

The tora bowed, hands in front of her thighs and reaching a modest 45-degree angle. “We aim to make a new home here, your highness.”

“… We?”

“Including me, I hope,” the golem said, rather startling all of the elvetahn.

Only Efval kept her peace, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “What manner of creature are you?”

“Something rather unique.” The not-golem said, infuriatingly evasive. “What is your business here, miss … what did you say her name was?” The not-golem looked over to one of her guards, who looked rather put on the spot now that everyone else did, too.

“Ahem, her highness, our queen Efval Gladestride,” he answered, dutiful if curt.

“Blessed is his name, Tahn, our All-Father, has decreed my betrothed is here,” Efval said, loud and commanding in her clarity. “I seek the man named Avaron. Where is he?”

“Oh, that does complicate things, doesn’t it …” the not-golem muttered, curling a hand under her chin.

“Do not waste my time with nonsense.” Efval quite detested how casually her words were waved away just then. Such blatant disrespect made her eye twitch on reflex and her jaw clench.

“This is Tsugumi,” the not-golem said, holding a hand out toward the tora woman. “And I’m Avaron.”

Silence wafted in between them all, and Efval for a brief, blissful moment, left her body with the power of sheer disbelief. It would be Bisnar who coughed into his hand and edged forward into the conversation.

“Forgive me, but you say Tsugumi … she of the band of six? The Dragonslayer Band, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh, how embarrassing,” Tsugumi said, covering her face with two hands while the others fidgeted. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time.”

“That …” Bisnar ran quiet, his brow furrowing. “I was not aware tora could survive for more than a century.”

“It’s complicated. You could see I ended up trapped out of time. I broke free some weeks ago, in no small part thanks to Avaron here.”

“I—I see. I remember the Dragonslayer Band coming to defeat the Plagued Beast when I was a sapling. We never properly repaid you for thus.”

“Oh, we did receive much, but the others were rather troubled by all the riches.”

“As heroes are won’t to be.”

“Starting to think you haven’t told me the whole story, Tsugumi,” Avaron said, glancing at the bashful tora woman.

“Enough!” Efval said, the thunder of her anger quieting even the birds nearby. “You presume to tell me _you_ —” she thrust an accusing finger at Avaron, “—are the one the All-Father betrothed me to?!”

“Yup.”

Her eye contorted, a reflexive spasm of pure rage slipping out of control for a brief moment. “You’re not even a man!”

“I guess you could say I’m a little of both but that’s a real technical argument. Listen, so I get that you’re angry—” all the guards and Bisnar conveniently took a few steps back with their caribou. A fact not quite missed by Avaron, who paused for one long, pregnant moment. “But, uhh, yeah. I’d go take it up with him.”

The sensibility of the idea disappeared beneath the indignity of being _told what to do_. “You—” Efval’s hissing words disappeared in a gust of wind, blowing across them all. With it came words, the whispers of Tahn himself right into her long, elegant ear. Seizing up with pure shock, the queen stared in utter disbelief, her ears twitching up and down. She couldn’t be hearing that at all! Her?! HER?! Efval’s grip on the reins tightened and tightened, hard enough the very leather of her gloves began to creak from the stress.

She refused!

Even from him, this was too much!

Turning her caribou around, Efval left into the forest, her tight face belying the rage underneath. She’d give the All-Father himself a great thrashing for such an indignity!

*~*

Avaron stared as most of the elvetahn left with their queen suddenly, only the one fellow in the funny glasses and his two guards remaining. He let out a long, suffering sigh, then dismounted from his deer. In approaching them, he held a hand over his chest and bowed.

“Forgive her highness, she is one to take difficulty with unexpected developments.”

“I’m seeing that,” Avaron remarked dryly. “Well, her poor reception aside, how might I help you, mister …?”

“Ah, a certain lack of manners on my behalf. I am Bisnar Treeshade, minister of the queendom in her majesty’s stead.”

“Minister?”

“When her majesty is away, it falls to me to tend to our forest.”

“Mm, I see. An underappreciated position in its great importance.”

Bisnar blinked, a moment of bewilderment cracking his otherwise impassive façade. “… Indeed, though it is not my place to say.”

“As someone who was in a rather similar position, once upon a time, I empathize with your plight. Now, how might I help you, good Bisnar?”

“I’d prefer to speak of your impending marriage to her majesty, and, as they say, work out the details.”

“I’m not too certain if that will continue on if she kills Tahn or something.”

“Kill the … ahem, no, not at all.” Bisnar coughed into his hand, and despite his certain words, his whole demeanor betrayed uncertainty. Efval very might well do so, and neither of them could refute it. “I have heard the words of the All-Father. I cannot many will dare to stand against them.”

Their people’s reverence for that strange tree-man was quite concerning to her. Nonetheless, Avaron shrugged and made a sweeping gesture to her little crap-shack by the mine. “It’s not much, but come in and sit. We were making stew for breakfast.”

“My thanks for your generosity.” Bisnar turned to his guards, and ordering them to keep watch, accompanied Avaron and Tsugumi inside. He took up a seat on a turned over box as Avaron sat on a stump opposite of him. Tsugumi, opting to tend the food and fire, busied herself working out a ‘decent’ meal out of impossible ingredients. A not inconsiderable feat given their dwindling supplies.

“Right then,” Avaron said, and firmly setting her hands on her knees, regarded Bisnar. “Tahn propositioned this marriage to me although I hadn’t quite imagined it’d be this, well …” she trailed off, waving a hand toward where Efval had been prior. “You know.”

“Indeed, I do,” Bisnar said with a solemn nod. “The All-Father does liken to some, inscrutable, decisions, but his intentions are ever kind and noble.”

“He does give off that sort of feeling,” Avaron agreed with a nod, her words only a little truthful. ‘Crazy’ sat on her mind more than any other, but she wouldn’t let that little devil slip out. “For the sake of conversation, let us say this marriage goes through. How will that put me, you know, in your society?”

Folding his hands together, Bisnar kept a straight-backed posture and a dignified air, despite their undignified surroundings. “Traditionally, it is the queen who rules supreme, and her king acts as her voice at home while she is busy. The, ahem, role I’m currently occupying as minister would be one who serves the king in his domestic affairs.”

“I imagine that’s what I’d end up as, then.”

“For want of another idea, yes. I cannot imagine her majesty will delegate any of her personal duties to anyone, marriage or not.”

“What does she do, precisely?”

“Everything, in simple words. In more recent years, however, our war against the Arden Empire has taken its toll. She oft leads as a general, rallying our armies and keeping the forest safe.”

“Mmm, war time.” Avaron held up two fingers in front of her lips, pressing them together in a contemplative look. “It’d be best for her to handle that, I’m not much of a fighter.”

“Indeed? I am most curious as to what you would offer to us and the forest, if you do not mind my asking.”

She’d rather not go making promises about her Hive, or her tentradom nature. Too much of that was up in the air about what did what or how, but she did have something. Avaron smirked for a moment and sat up straighter. “Like I said earlier, I used to be in a position like yours. Honestly, I quite enjoy managing people—making sure things are where they should be, insuring production stays up, and expanding the organization. How well that talent works out for your people, I honestly cannot say.”

“Mm. As a practical concern, let us pick a problem, say—food shortage. How might you go about solving that?”

Avaron hemmed and hawed, her face contorting with thought. “Bit a big one there, but the problem is in the details. Where do you source the food from? How are they handling production? Doublecheck everyone who makes the food, then check how they’re shipping it. A lot of food gets lost in transit if you don’t store it properly. Then, once it gets to its destination, how do you distribute it? I think it is of concern to the government to ensure everyone can eat, so they need to step in—big power, big money. Anyone who wants to make money off selling food, they do it more as a luxury item, maybe.”

Bisnar’s brows crept upward and he seemed rather impressed. “Astute observations, without the specifics.”

“When you’re running a big organization, the details is what matters the most. The more you know, the better you can guide things.” Avaron gave a half-hearted shrug with one arm. “Sometimes a big problem is a simple solution, but that’s a good day.”

Bisnar cracked a smile at that and he nodded sagely. “Spoken as someone who undoubtedly has been in my place before. It does me comfort to hear of your experience.”

_That’s good,_ Avaron thought with a mental sigh. _No reason to go into their house and shit on the floor._ Their shocked faces might be funny, though, and she had to push that idea out of her mind. “If it’s not too much trouble, can you bring me up to speed on this war with some empire?”

“Ah, you are unaware of that?”

“Let’s say I want your perspective on it so we’re on the same idea here.”

“Mm, reasonable. A few years ago, the Arden Empire elected a new emperor. Eager for glory and more riches, he has invaded many neighboring lands he considered ‘weaker’. Some fell, others resisted, then he came to ours. In truth, we were unprepared for the ferocity his soldiers showed.” Bisnar’s face tightened, and he slouched forward, balancing himself with his elbows on his knees. “We do not have many cities as the other races might. Those we lost devastated our defense, and it is only recently we have fought the empire to a stalemate.”

“A bad situation, then.”

“To put it lightly. It is of some relief we have found out they are diverting much of their attention away from us.”

“Why is that?”

“The supposed summoning of many heroines in Artor, who only has one queendom separating them from the Empire.” Bisnar furrowed his brow. “For the time being, it seems they will invade that queendom, then Artor, to steal the heroines for themselves.”

“I doubt it’ll be that easy.”

“It is as you say. Artor and its surrounding neighbors have long resisted the Empire. It’ll be an enormous war, but their misfortune is our gain.” The minister sat up then and stared at the sky over them. “We can rally our strength and avenge our fallen as the Empire looks away. A truly wondrous opportunity her majesty will, passionately, not squander. Still …”

“I’m sensing disagreement …”

“Not disagreement so much as … concern.” Bisnar adjusted his collar then. Were he about to say something, Tsugumi stepped into frame, a bowl of earthen-meaty soup and spoon ready. She handed one to each them before going to retrieve her own and sit on the stool beside Avaron.

“I thank you for the courtesy,” Bisnar said, bowing his head toward Tsugumi, who nodded in turn. Their conversation took a pause as tentative slurps and gulps followed, the soup hot but not scalding. He let out a dry chuckle, a sort of conversational noise more than an honest laugh. “Life truly is mysterious.”

“Mm? How so?” Avaron asked lightly.

“I hadn’t ever expected to have a meal with a heroine of the Dragonslayer Band.”

“Please, you flatter me,” Tsugumi said with a laugh, waving him off with one hand. “That was so long ago.”

“And yet no less important.”

“What did they do?” Avaron asked, quite curious up until an elbow jabbed into her side. “Hurk!”

“A story I shall tell one day,” Tsugumi said, her smile making even Bisnar recoil a little bit.

“Ah, ahem, of course,” he said, his one glance toward Avaron bespoke with his retreat.

“Fine, fine,” Avaron grumbled, rubbing her now painless side. “Since I already spoiled the mood, what was it that worried about you with the Empire?”

His good mood clearly bled away then, a sour look setting in heavily. “To speak as an arrow on the matter—their new weapons. They call them _sparkblasts_ , and it stands to reason it is why the Empire is so aggressive now.”

“Some kind of magic?” Tsugumi asked, frowning.

“It may, or may not be. Some are affected by magic, but mostly, no.”

“What does it look like it?” Avaron, rather concerned by the name, couldn’t help ask.

“Ehm … a long metal tube, set in a wooden handle. There’s a slot at the back of the barrel, where they put blasting powder before shoving a ball down the tu—”

“—They have _guns?_ ” Avaron said with utmost incredulity, enough Tsugumi started a little. Bisnar looked takenaback for a moment before tilting his head curiously.

“I’ve not heard of that name before.”

“If a bladed weapon is a sword, then a gun is the thing you’re describing.”

“I see.”

“You’re quite right to be weary of it. They are by far the most dangerous weapons this world will ever see.”

Bisnar pushed his glasses up his nose, and handing his bowl off to Tsugumi, folded his hands together. “You speak with some familiarity with them.”

“More than I would ever be comfortable with. By the sounds of it, you’re fighting the first generation—the first real, working and combat-ready ones. They’re scary but the Empire probably isn’t used to them yet. It’s the second and third generations that will show their true, terrifying potential. Armies that know how to use them, and guns refined to be used even better.”

“A year ago I might’ve dismissed it out of hand,” Bisnar said and then shook his head. “Now, I only wonder how to defeat it.”

“… Magic complicates things,” Avaron said, not quite sure how to tackle _that_ big unknown. “Some forms are more effective than others, but the weapons themselves can be made magic too. But there is one thing to know—guns changed everything forever, and I saw the death of the sword, shield, spear, and bow, for none of those could defeat them again.”

Bisnar nodded along with her words, staring at the ground in a contemplative posture. “You speak of them with great experience, that is something we are in dire need of.”

“Consider it a gesture of good will, as a neighbor if not your queen’s, ehm, wife-to-be or what have you. I shall tell you what I know of guns, even if is not the same knowledge the Empire uses.”

Bisnar lightened up at that, and he bowed more formally, saying gratefully, “I thank you. I can only hope we can make use of it.”

“You sound afraid of it.”

“Her majesty’s sister was … killed, by these guns at the hands of the Empire. Despite all her strong passion, I cannot earnestly say she hates anything more than guns.”

“It is a good to hate them, for they are destruction incarnate. But one cannot have the luxury of hating them, if they do not have the strength to oppress them.”

“Indeed. If it is no trouble, there are those I would like you to speak to. It may take some time for me to gather them.”

“I’ll be here,” Avaron said with a dismissive wave. “If at all possible, I’d like an alchemist or someone who works with exotic powders, potions, or similar. Oh, and a metal worker, as I’m not sure if wood can handle the power of guns at all.”

“I shall try to include those as well. Given your—” Bisnar glanced around, “—circumstances, what might you have need of here?”

“Oh? Err …”

“Clothing, food, and perhaps some workers to make us an inn,” Tsugumi said, stepping in with a decisive smoothness. “In tora styles, if you know them still.”

Bisnar blinked alongside Avaron and then chuckled. “Of course, it’d be an honor to build the home of a heroine.”

“I can’t exactly pay for it …” Avaron said sheepishly, scratching the back of her head and looking away.

“Think nothing of it,” Bisnar said, waving dismissively much like Avaron had. “I believe in the All-Father’s wisdom, and that which you have told me has laid my fears to rest. It behooves us to help an ally who has already done much.”

_Kind of feel like I’m cheating here, just talking about guns and basic economics … but okay?_ Avaron couldn’t really spill that tidbit out, amusing as it was in its own way. _Knowledge is power and I do have a couple thousand years of human history, if an abridged form._

With their discussion seemingly finished, the three of them rose and left the enclosure. The guards came at Bisnar’s signal, taking up their positions next to him. “I must go now and find her highness. In time I shall visit again, and so I wish you fair winds and good harvest.”

_Ah, damn cultural differences._ Avaron nodded. “Safe travels, and good luck with her, ehm, highness.”

“Yes, indeed,” Bisnar sighed, and bowing his head, mounted up with his guard onto their deer. Giving one final wave, they hurried out into the forest, bouncing along the deer in a rather unexpected manner. Avaron half-expected them to gallop like horses, but no, there they went, bouncing like deer.

_This fucking world, I swear to the goddesses,_ Avaron thought, rolling her eyes. She looked over to Tsugumi, who seemed almost _too_ innocent standing there. “An inn, really?”

“Do not fault me for starting up my family business again.”

“I mean, I don’t mind, but who in the world is going to come out here to do business?”

“Them, apparently.”

Holding up a finger, Avaron’s mouth clicked shut at the rather simple shut-down she received. “Alright, fine. Well, help me get some bags or something. I’m going to go forage in the forest for something fresh to eat.”

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Lukewarm Intrigue

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride – Enraged Queen


	12. Growing Pains

Life is work and work is endless; work for yourself.

*~*

Cradled in a basin of spider silk, Avaron stared down at the eggs Tsugumi had given birth to. Now that they’d had a few days, the shells had hardened into a kind of white porcelain similar to her own skin. The key difference was the chitin-like overlapping plates, and the lilac-colored veins that undulated and pulsed every so often. They were otherwise ‘fine’, or so her instincts told her. Some bizarre, strange answer that came at her desire to know about them.

Setting the tarp back down over the eggs, Avaron sat on the nearby stump-stool and crossed her arms. _Let’s give this a real look over again,_ she thought, opening her menu and heading into [Hive Management]. New addition had appeared named [Drone Management], and she popped open the info screen on it again.

[Management of individual drones, drone strains, and their overall state of being. The skill [Hive Queen] is utilized to actually command or manage drones on an order or objective basis.]

Of course, she hadn’t found where or how to do that yet. In all likelihood, she probably needed _actual_ drones up and moving about to find out that information. Sitting on a stump-stool, she leaned forward forward and propped her elbow on her knee and her head on her hand. _Seems reasonable, but all it says in the screen is ‘unassigned drones: 32’. How do I assign them?_ Pursing her lips, Avaron stared at the screen until a new one suddenly popped open.

_Genetic engineering …? Oh, right, that still. Wow this is a lot of information._ Sitting up straight, her eyes roamed with a mechanical precision back and forth. All sorts of knowledge arrayed before her, from individual DNA-sequences to genomes, cellular compositions, and even a predictive organism growth model preview. Stranger still, despite never having seen any of it before in her life, she _recognized_ it. Understood what each part meant, and even more distressingly, grasped how to manipulate them.

_This … this is it, isn’t it?_ she thought before chuckling into her hand. _Fuck me, this is more than a damn computer. I’m really not human anymore, am I?_

Was such an insane ability the power of the divine? More than simply surviving impossible damage or something else, the power to create and manipulate life? Menu after menu, field after field, she dug through all the options available to her. Glaring holes or other issues appeared quite regularly, while easy-to-snap-together pieces stood out like the easiest choice in the world. _Oh, an inheritance section? ‘Contributing benefits from brood mother Tsugumi’ … Oh! I get it, the drones inherited some of her skills and genetic characteristics. So I could slap in [Silk Production] and they’d be able to make webs like hers?_ Avaron shifted on her seating, leaning on her other leg this time. _I doubt they’d have that sword-like quality, that might be another skill or a higher level … hm._

But, to make more drones with [Silk Production], did that require Tsugumi to birth them, or could another brood mother’s drones also utilize it? Was there a collective memory now that she knew about the information, or was it stored in some manner that limited how it was used? Avaron scratched her temple for a moment before letting out a sigh. _I have no idea how any of this works. Not at least until another woman signs up to get pumped full of eggs!_

Ah, the tantalizing idea sent a shiver down her back. Shaking her head, she shooed that thought away with her hand. “Oiii ... this is rather bothersome,” she grumbled under her breath. _Well, they won’t be born until I give them something to grow into. Ugh, do I really have to make the whole thing from the ground up? How long is this going to take?_

She had an idea in her mind, an end goal that her work in minutia inched toward. Above everything else, she needed worker drones—cleaners, cargo movers, builders, ones dexterous enough to tend to somewhat sensitive tasks, and perhaps even do farming. Only one creature readily came to mind, though perhaps one biased by her very first brood mother’s exotic looks. Avaron diligently envisioned the form of a spider in her mind, and set about creating a template for the immature eggs to grow toward.

Of all of nature’s bountiful life, spiders commanded an impressive versatility. Ants might be closer to what she actually wanted, but Avaron had more in mind for _quality_ rather than _quantity_. An individual spider could do more than a single ant, but a colony of ants eclipsed any spider that existed. With her command, and the power of the [Hive Mind], the quality offered by a spider-based body might be unparalleled.

At least, for doing work.

_One thing at a time …_

*~*

Three days passed in a blur, Avaron’s workaholic mind fixating on the gene-construction of her worker drones. Tsugumi remained busy enough, leaving often and scouring the forest for some reason or another. Twice she returned with wild boar, and some messy butchering got them fresh meat for the time being. Avaron tried making small talk, but the spider woman seemed quite focused on something or another.

_So what you’re saying is, if I run the digestive tract in a loop I’ll get more nutrients out of it … Fuck, is there enough space inside the abdomen for that?_ Avaron squinted, staring at the info screen in front of her. One part after another; a body of countless thousands of little pieces that needed to work together. That she made such great strides toward macro-scale design came in part thanks to how Lego block-like all the information was. She couldn’t quite change individual genes, but she could slap sections of them together and affect a larger, if ham-fisted change. But as always, one solution beget ten more problems.

A sudden pressure on her shoulders snapped her awake. Looking over, she found Tsugumi leaning in, their faces almost touching. All six eyes half-lidded, her lips parted and wet, and her skin deeply flushed, a tantalizing scent slammed into her nose. The full powered ‘fuck me’ eyes and blatant, head-clouding scent of arousal blew away all of Avaron’s focus. “H-hey,” she said, gulping quite audibly.

“Dear customer,” Tsugumi breathed, enthusing each word with a long, sultry sound. “You’ve been very rude to me!”

“What did I do?” Avaron cried out in self-defense.

Tsugumi frowned, her aroused desire contorting into a flush annoyance. “Making me say it, how even ruder!”

“I’m not a mind reader,” Avaron retorted dryly. Ah, she shouldn’t have said that, Tsugumi’s cheeks were puffing up with annoyance. “Did you, ehm, did you get a new perfume or something?” That question, at least, made Tsugumi pause and blink confusedly.

“No?”

“Mm.” Avaron leaned in and brushed her cheek against Tsugumi’s, feeling her odd-if-ever inviting chitin-skin. The sheer _potency_ of the smell really got her going! Every little inhale sent a tingle down the back of her throat, and her skin shivered with goosebumps. Tsugumi’s normal, floral-like color was there, but the new addition had something to it … something satisfying. Or tempting? Avaron hardly noticed how she rubbed against Tsugumi’s cheek all the while, until a hand settled on her back. She jerked with surprise, her mind snapping back awake.

Their noses touching, Tsugumi’s eyes narrowed with a pleased, if predatory, glint in them. She pushed in, kissing Avaron with a hungry, mouth-enveloping gulp. “Hm—mm?” Avaron mumbled, returning the _energetic_ suckling. Tiny little pops and wet sucks followed, their lips parting for a brief, air-gasping moment before smacking together again. Avaron found herself rather on the backfoot with how Tsugumi pushed in, angling higher. If she didn’t do something, they’d both fall over! Avaron reached up, pushing against Tsugumi’s chest on reflex. As soon as her hand squeezed that hearty bump, the hostess ripped away with a hissing, surprised gasp.

“B-be gentle!” she demanded in a low voice, her whole body tightening up.

_Eh? It’s just her … oh, wait a second._

One plus one equaled titties, now that she had the focus to work it out. “Are you, erm, swollen?”

Tsugumi looked away with half her eyes, the other half eyeballing Avaron. “Maybe,” she whispered, holding her mouth behind her hand.

“Perhaps a little _full_ feeling?”

“Mhm,” Tsugumi answered with a bashful nod.

Despite the cuteness of her whole act, Avaron couldn’t quite shake how dangerous she seemed still. Such an odd combination, and so wholly part of Tsugumi’s charm. _Ahh, I’ve never been into the whole milk fetish but … it is tied to my nature now._ Disguising her thoughts behind a playful drag of her finger, she toyed with the top of Tsugumi’s dress. She pried at the fold, threatening to reveal her cleavage. Her deadly cute hostess squirmed, almost pushing herself into Avaron’s teasing finger. “As it happens to be,” Avaron said, sounding light and thoughtful. “I’m rather thirsty. What do you have on the menu?”

Tsugumi blinked before a dawning realization flitted across her features. She folded her hands together underneath her chest, which _just happened_ to push her hidden breasts up. “As it happens, today’s special is … milk.”

Avaron prided herself on not laughing right then and there; Tsugumi was trying _so hard_. “Oh? Is it _fresh?_ ”

“For my most valued customer …” Tsugumi lifted a hand and pushed open her dress fold. First fold to one side, the second to the other, and so her breasts revealed themselves, one silent drag of cloth at a time. They’d plumped up quite nicely, her nipples and areola quite engorged and darkened. Pregnancy, it seemed, had been quite kind to Tsugumi—the roundness of being full complimented her modest breasts beautifully. “… a rarity: straight from the tap.”

Avaron hoped her unsightly gulping didn’t sound as loud as it did to her. The curious undercurrent to Tsugumi’s scent _shot up_ , practically dragging her by the nose. _Fuck my life, can I smell her milk? Really?_ she thought, incredulous even as her head leaned in. Yup, no doubt about it. Avaron laid her lips gently on Tsugumi’s breast, giving it a long smooch before parting gently. She kissed the other one just the same, her milky hostess shivering in her arms. Such small, simple movements, but how Tsugumi’s breasts jiggled ever so slightly— _What a treat._

“Oh, it’s a superb quality,” Avaron said, looking up with her eyes at Tsugumi’s hazy, heart-tinged pupils. “If you’re offering this, I’ll accept it gladly.”

“Please, then, dear customer,” Tsugumi said huskily, every word riding her breath. She pushed her chest up, bringing her _very_ erect nipples up to Avaron’s mouth. “Drink.”

Any thoughts of humor at the ridiculousness of their foreplay disappeared the moment Avaron’s tongue met Tsugumi’s nipple. Giving it one teasing, slow flick, the spider hostess jostled and let out a surprised chirp. More than that, a little of her glistening bounty leaked out, squirting with a tiny ferocity onto Avaron’s blue-colored tongue. The _rich_ and _creamy_ flavor shot down her throat in an instance, and she sucked her tongue back. Smacking her lips Avaron let the _delicious_ taste wash down her suddenly salivating mouth. Tsugumi looked uncertain at the sudden motion, her nipple twitching on its own accord.

“Forget superb, this tastes incredible,” Avaron said, her playful ‘roleplaying’ tone now utterly frank and astounded.

“O—oh? I’m glad you—ouuoooh!” Tsugumi’s tentative words disappeared in a slutty, ecstatic moan when Avaron sucked her leaking tit right into her mouth. Tit, areola and all disappeared beneath the tentradom’s greedy lips, firmly wrapped with an air-tight suck. Avaron lashed out with her tongue, not at all subtle in her appreciative licks. Swirling around Tsugumi’s areola, she brushed the whole length of the flat side upon her nipple, dragging it up in one long, demanding lick. Pulling it back, her mouth sucked with a demanding pressure.

What was a few trickling drops turned into a stream, almost gushing out after a few seconds. Avaron let out a sultry, throaty moan alongside Tsugumi at the _incredible_ taste. Hotly warm and with a certain thickness to it, she hadn’t quite a point of comparison in her old life. Store-bought milk suddenly seemed rather lackluster and watered down, at the least! Her mouth filled faster than she expected, and she paused for a moment before sucking her first load of milk down her throat. Goodness the sheer, _unrelenting_ awareness of it traveling into her stomach made her head spin. A flushed heat washed over her, spreading through every corner of her being like fire roaring to life.

Pure, unrestrained arousal, and a deep-seated need for _more_.

Avaron licked and sucked again, slurping Tsugumi’s milk right out of her breast. She rolled her lips, sliding them for a new perch, a new angle to suck from. She bit gently with her teeth, squeezing the dark areola into a harder point, tighter and easier for her tongue to lash hungrily. Tsugumi jumped with a chittering cry, pushing her chest into Avaron’s face even harder.

“Oh, oh dear customer!” she whispered in a stuttering, pleased tone. “Drink me! Drink everything!”

She rather liked hearing that pleading and feeling the _eagerness_ in her royal mate. Avaron obliged, only distantly mindful to not be _too hard_ on Tsugumi’s ravaged boob. One gulp turned into three, and soon enough the stream trickled down to a few drops, until Avaron spent a good minute just sucking and licking a spent breast. Not that she minded, Tsugumi had such lovely tits and she quite enjoyed sucking on them. Especially given every other little moment, Tsugumi jerked and twisted, almost wanting to escape, but letting out ear-filling moans. Deep, throaty ones of someone far too into what happened to them.

A hand on her forehead started pushing away, and Avaron’s tight suction dragged Tsugumi’s boob with her mouth. A final, loud pop signaled their departure, the darkly flushed lilac-colored skin slathered in spit and drool. And, rather quite deflated looking, far closer to Tsugumi’s regular size even if her nipples were almost _radiating_ heat off of them. Avaron licked her lips, catching any stray taste she could while Tsugumi heaved and huffed, rather out of breath. Their eyes met, and the spider hostess looked rather out of breath. Smirking mischievously, Avaron leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on the now-empty breast.

“Thank you for the meal,” she said to it, then leaned over to its full neighbor. “I hope you taste just as good.”

“W-wait,” Tsugumi gasped, two hands going up to her cheeks while the others remained propping up her breasts. “I—I’m not ready!” She said one thing, but her tone implied another entirely.

Avaron looked up at her, brow cocking curiously. “Ready for what?”

“T-to c-cum,” Tsugumi stuttered, a delirious-looking shudder crawling down her whole body at the words. “It feels so good …”

Ah, this teasing side of hers was becoming dangerous. Avaron mustered up an ‘innocent’ look. “What feels good?”

“The … the thing,” Tsugumi muttered, her blushing face looking away.

“ _What_ thing?” Avaron asked, lifting a hand up. She grasped Tsugumi’s spent breast gently, holding it possessively. Her poor mate, however, shuddered at the contact, a shaky exhale escaping her.

“P-please, I’m sensitive,” Tsugumi begged, rather oddly defenseless looking all of a sudden.

“I’ll be gentle,” Avaron assured her, still making sure she had a nice _, controlling_ grip. “I just want to feel how lovely you are.”

“Mmm.”

“But what thing was it?”

“Mm, no! Don’t make me say it,” Tsugumi whined, looking away from Avaron’s _innocent_ inquisitiveness.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, Avaron leaned in and kissed Tsugumi’s plump, milk-heavy breast. “I can’t—” kiss “—help if you—” kiss “—don’t tell me,” she said, peppering light, wet kisses all over that soft lilac skin. Tsugumi squirmed and shivered, somewhere between wanting to pull away and push in closer. Not getting anywhere with that technique, she ventured up, turning to harder, throat-sucking kisses. Tsugumi let out a giggly, whining sound of pleasure, oh so ostensibly struggling still. Avaron frowned a little and went up further, nibbling the underside of her jawline. “Come on,” she whispered, smiling into Tsugumi’s neck. “Tell me, you tease.”

“So mean!” Tsugumi grumbled, her fingers scratching along Avaron’s scalp. “Prying open a woman’s secrets is like forcing her knees apart.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Ehheheh?” Tsugumi chuckled nervously, now playing with Avaron’s hair in little loops and twirls. “Did I say that?”

“Maybe,” Avaron said evasively. Reaching with her free hand, grabbed at Tsugumi’s butt, getting a lackluster grip on it through her layered dress. “Some women like that sort of thing. But I won’t bother if you don’t tell me.”

“Eheh, I don’t want to … err, that is …”

It’d be a wall all the same, and so Avaron made the executive decision for a tactical withdrawal. “It’s good to be clear about it. Mmm, we can talk later though, I’m rather hungry again.” It was a little lie—one that justified her sucking that fat, engorged tit right into her mouth. Now that the exhilarating rush had passed, Avaron took a slower, methodical lick and suck. Tsugumi’s sweet, happy little gasps filled the air, her pounding heart oh-so-faintly noticeable. A rush of creamy milk followed, the uneven and unusual texture a bit clearer in her mind. Creamy, to be certain, but with tiny irregularities that made every part of the gushing stream feel different.

For the oddest damn reason, she thought of boba tea. Purely on the texture, it wasn’t as lumpy or big, but drinking and eating felt very much the same. Avaron smiled into Tsugumi’s plump tit. _Boba tea?_ she mused before taking a big, throat-squelching gulp of milk. The ensuing rush of warmth left her fingers and toes tingling, her lower belly coming alive again _most noticeably_. Goodness she felt drenched! She didn’t dare move, lest Tsugumi fall off.

Not that that stopped the spider woman from writhing, squirming, and thrusting her own hips. Trying to force more of her tit into Avaron’s sucking mouth, she rocked back and forth, grinding on her lap. Her breathing soon changed from long, gulping motions to shorter, panting ones. “Oh, please, suck me, suck me,” Tsugumi begged in a babble, almost _bouncing_ on Avaron’s lap by then. She had to take a firm grab to hold her down, but that only amplified Tsugumi’s incessant grinding. “It feeeels, ooh, it feels so, so—so good!”

_Are you getting off?_ Avaron wondered with suspicion, her nose telling a story of growing arousal. Purer, stronger, the one kind that hinted at something great. She tweaked her fingers on Tsugumi’s spent breast, giving it the lightest massage. A sharp, keening exhale followed, not at all pained, but one rather unprepared!

“D-dear cuussss—”

Tsugumi’s pleading words fell away when Avaron sucked _and_ tweaked, working both those milky tits at once. A brief glance upward revealed Tsugumi’s cute face mid-space out, her eyes unfocusing as she nibbled on her lips. On the edge and oh so ready to fly off, or so Avaron’s great experience told her. She kept suckling and tweaking, massaging both Tsugumi’s sensitive tits, coaxing her along even as the milk finally ran out. Tsugumi’s arms wrapped around her and squeezed the two of them together tightly, her face contorting.

Her tiny squeaks and spasms told all Avaron needed, even if the orgasmic release still rather surprised her. Unlike their times before, Tsugumi shuddered and cummed rather quietly. She’d drained both her tits quite thoroughly, the poor things blushing darkly, visibly throbbing. Most of all, she couldn’t quite deny enjoying it at all. The taste, the experience—Tsugumi’s sputtering orgasm—all of it soothed her, mind and soul. Smiling in her mate’s cleavage, she waited for the inevitable calm when all of Tsugumi’s steel-tight muscles turned to jelly.

Panting and blubbering, the elegant spider slumped against Avaron, giving off little twitches. Avaron rubbed her back and cradled her, their heads on each other’s shoulders. Mischievousness bit her in the ass, and Avaron nuzzled up to where Tsugumi’s ear was. “Thank you for the meal, miss hostess.”

“Oh, I’m—glad, I’m glad you’re pleased …” Tsugumi returned in a soft, staggered whisper.

“I hope you won’t mind if I drink your _milk_ again.”

“Not, noooot at all …”

Avaron gave her a hearty, encouraging pat on the butt, making Tsugumi squeak and squirm on her lap. “Good.”

*~*

_Fuck I feel like I drank a gallon of espresso,_ Avaron thought, walking through the entrance to the mine/cave. Once the arousal bled away, the sheer _energy_ swimming in her body made her jittery and twitchy. _Either something is up with that milk or how my body works. Goddess damn this! Holy shit!_ She whipped her hands up and down, working out the squirming-tingling sensation there. Despite all of it, she didn’t _feel_ like something bad was happening. ‘Waking up’ didn’t quite suit it either, and for once she hadn’t a clue to consider something analogous.

Milk just supercharged her, it seemed.

_Hello, info screen? Anything? Why is it so fucking dark in here?_ Avaron stopped, and realizing she’d forgotten a light, sighed. In going outside again, she picked up her ever-trusty silk-knobbed stick, asked Tsugumi to light it up, and went back inside. Running her hand up her bangs, she let out a long, deflating raspberry blow. It sputtered and died as she looked around, coming to a stop. _Oh, hello._

Her hive had definitely grown over the last few days. Dark blue flesh stretched and spread everywhere, covering the floor, ceiling, and walls in a thousand little tendrils. Not unlike the roots of a tree, if a tree had way too many roots. Tentatively stepping onto the growth, it gave away _oh-so-slightly_ , but felt rather firm otherwise. A wet, fleshy squish sounded, if rather mute in volume. Avaron looked up, then down, then walked over to the side rail where the river was flowing. The growth stretched over it and into the water, pulsating like a throat swallowing and swallowing. _I guess it’s drinking that, then._

Come to think of it, how did it get its nutrients? The thought sat on her mind as Avaron looked down the way, squinting. _I doubt the water has fish or anything … Algae?_ She weighed the idea, but shrugged her shoulders. _Or some magic nonsense, I guess._

In heading deeper, she saw the environment change more. The tendrils became a lighter color, closer to her own body. More surprisingly, porcelain-plates started appearing, growing over the flesh like protective armor. She took a step upward, the solid plate under foot the firmest ground she’d walked on in weeks. Avaron jumped up and down on it, but nothing budged—even the flesh underneath at the edge held it firmly. “Now this is pretty cool,” she muttered to herself, bending down and running her fingers over the ground.

The tiniest hint of warmth rather surprised her to feel. At least, compared to the frigid stone at the entrance, it felt positively pleasant. Standing up and rubbing her fingers together, she didn’t see a hint of dirt or grime. _Interesting …_

The deeper she went, the more its nature became clear. The dark-fleshed edge of the growth and the healthier, lively area with the plates wasn’t too far apart. It seemed to mold itself to the terrain, then the plates gave shape to a tunnel inspired by the undergrowth. If the textures were far smoother and the blue flesh hidden completely, it might’ve been close to a starship interior. She reached the end of the walkway, but there wasn’t a roar of a waterfall anymore.

Holding out the magic-light torch, she squinted. The whole basin of water had filled in with flesh, winding through it in firm, unyielding cords. In fact, plates grew along the edge, turning the whole area into natural-grown water tank of some kind. Avaron stepped up, and incredibly mindful of her footing, edged her way across. Her back to the plate-covered wall, she shimmed forward while looking up and around. The hive had grown around the waterfall, forming a natural tube and a sealant at the top. In turn, it pumped into the basin-turned-tank, keeping the flow going but without almost any noise.

_If those strands weren’t there, this water might still sweep me away,_ she mused. Crouching for a moment, she held her torch, illuminating the flowing surface. As water would in a pressure pipe, it moved, shimmering gently, but just stable enough not to make noise. _It grew all of this by itself?_ she marveled, blinking confusedly. Odd, odder, and odder still, it didn’t make any sense. How did some natural growth know how to make such informed, organized design?

To her surprise, she found an opening in the wall on her side. _This … this is new,_ Avaron realized. The waterfall-pipe she knew was opposite of the entrance she came in, and this new tunnel was just underneath it.

An unexplored part of the cave.

Peeking around the corner wearily, she saw nothing but her hive growth. It must’ve gotten there fairly early on, as it was all covered in plates and quite empty otherwise. _Uhhh …_ Avaron squinted, weighing her options. _Gonna do the smart thing, yeah._

She backtracked her way out slowly, and once she found solid ground again, left the cave/mine. Tsugumi, it soon became clear, was working on butchering and cleaning out another boar. The spider woman looked up at her approach, her face shifting from total focus to a maidenly, inviting smile. Which, would’ve been quite fetching if her hands weren’t drenched in blood and guts were slopped in a bucket at her feet. At seeing Avaron’s face, however, her gaze hardened.

“What is it?”

“I found another tunnel in the mine back there,” Avaron said, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. “Past the waterfall.”

“You went swimming again?” Tsugumi asked, face scrunching up confusedly.

_Swimming again … oh right, that excuse._ Avaron coughed into her hand. “No, uh. Let’s say I had something working in the mine, and things are a bit different now. Do you want to go check it out?”

“I have to finish this boar. Go watch the entrance so nothing comes out.”

“Alright.”

Although, some minutes later she wondered how long it took to actually do. Time dragged on, Avaron’s task of a featureless wall remaining unchanging. _Wait, what am I doing?_ she thought with a scoff and pulled open her personal info screen. _Duh._

Opening up [Hive Management] suddenly showed her a lot of new things. For one, a screen acted as her awareness from the growth itself—she could see _and_ feel it. Every rock and hardy surface, every odd clump of dirt or soil she could wriggle into easily; the very air itself, passing so, so slowly throughout her. Avaron shook her head, now rather firmly back inside her own body’s awareness. _O-kay then,_ she thought, staring at her own two hands, turning them over and over. _That, uh, will take some getting used to._

She eased herself back into it, trying to block out the things she didn’t need to know. It came surprisingly easy, the overwhelming tactile sensations dulling until only the certain information she wanted came to mind. First and foremost, the growth was healthy and growing, spreading down that secret tunnel she saw. Second, it had gone way, way further than she imagined—the damn thing must’ve been at least a mile in size. Avaron blinked and rubbed her eyes, not quite believing it.

_So it’s not that slow, got it,_ she thought with a roll of her eyes, dragging her hand down her mouth. _Can I … sense enemies?_

The growth had an awareness of not only itself, but everything _inside_ it. As far as it could tell her, there wasn’t anything significant—nothing like a bear or dog or any kind of life at all. That is, if what it told her and the reality of what was inside of it matched up. Avaron wasn’t _too_ certain on what to trust there. Steeping her fingers together, she stared at the info-screen.

_Now that I’m cleaning out all this unnecessary information, hm. Interesting. The hive has a sort of unconsciousness to it, like the autonomous system in the human body. I’m submerging my mind into it directly, that’s why it’s such a headache._ Avaron tilted her head. _But if I filter out a few things I want to know, it’s like opening up new tabs in a web browser. Each one is just a page that’s just beamed directly into my head._

As ever in life, control of information proved vital. In this case, filtering out garbage information for valuable stuff.

Time passed rather quickly, then, until approaching footsteps caught her ear. Avaron saw Tsugumi approach, cleaned up and dressed with her light armor. At least she expected it to be armor, given how padded and sturdy the cloth was. “Are you ready, then?”

“I am. Nothing came out?”

“No. So far I don’t think there is anything in there.”

“Why?”

“Come in, I’ll show you.”

They walked into the mine easily enough. Where as Tsugumi stopped upon seeing the edge of the growth, Avaron kept right on going.

“What is this?”

Looking over her shoulder, Avaron smiled and winked. “Me, in a sense.”

Six eyes stared back rather confused.

“Sorry, it’ll be hard to explain. Come on.”

Despite her tentative steps, Tsugumi marched up beside Avaron, and the two headed deeper. They reached the short guard wall that separated them from the waterfall tank, Tsugumi frowning curiously all the while. “Where’s the waterfall?” she asked.

“It’s there,” Avaron said, pointing in the general direction. “Just covered up in a pipe now.”

“A pipe?”

“Ahh … to be honest I’ve been thinking about this for a couple days. I still don’t know how to explain it properly.” Avaron laughed and scratched the back of her head. “This’ll sound dumb, but are you familiar with how tentradom, uhh, nests, I suppose, are made?”

“Hmm …” Tsugumi squinted and rubbed her chin, appearing deep in thought. “We never fought a live tentradom, but we’d gone through one’s nest before. All blackened, dried up, and dead.”

“Mmm. Ah, this really is such a pain! Let me put it like this, then. My kind lay an … egg, that then splits out and grows kind of like a plant. A fleshy plant.”

“And that is what this … is?”

“Basically. Other people build their houses and whatnot. We grow our homes.”

“Oh. Oh!” Tsugumi clapped two of her hands together. “Like the elvetahn?”

“Eh?”

“They grow their homes. There is also a lot of woodworking and carpentry.”

Avaron squinted and thought on it for a hot moment. “Kind of the same, a little. All of this—” she waved a hand, “—is still a ‘part’ of me, though. I can control it, feel through it, shape it …”

“I understand,” Tsugumi said with a dismissive look. “Where it grows, you know what’s there?”

“In essence. The hive is still young—I’m not entirely certain yet.”

“… Hive?”

“That’s what it’s called. At least, for me.”

“Ah. Let us go exploring, then.”

Avaron nodded, and holding Tsugumi’s hand, stepped up onto the water tank’s edge. They carefully shimmed their way across to the other end, the larger, once-hidden tunnel yawning before them. Covered in organic plate, it didn’t feel all that threatening. Empty, certainly, but that anxiety from when she first explored the mine wasn’t there. “Uh, right. If I’m understanding this, we got a straight shot path ahead, and there’s at least two or three branching paths. I guess the miners never got this far, being behind a waterfall and all.”

“Yes …” Tsugumi agreed lightly then clicked her tongue. “It must not be lived in if their prospecting didn’t meet anything to stop it.”

“Or whatever lived here took a while to notice them.”

“… That too.”

“Well, as long as we’re still in the hive itself, I can find our way out again. Let’s get going.”

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Lukewarm Intrigue

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride – Enraged Queen


	13. The Shadow of Guns

Anger without purpose is a fire, burning all it can consume.

*~*

“The elvetahn have returned,” Tsugumi said, looking up from her work at the campfire.

Avaron blinked and superstitiously turned toward their enclosure’s shoddy door. “Not with a bunch of swords, I hope.”

“No … workers, they bring wagons and animals with them.” Tsugumi tilted her head, seeming thoughtful. “And that angry bitch.”

“Angry what?”

“Their queen.”

“Oh, I thought I heard—” Avaron’s stupid remark disappeared under the blare of a horn. Resonant, vibrant, and certainly attention grabbing. It went on for a few seconds before silence fell, and the two of them looked at each other dubiously. They headed out of the enclosure together, and saw a veritable _convoy_ of elvetahn approach. They branched out all along the river bank, the forest’s edge, and closer still to their enclosure. Tents were being set up, areas cleared for pack-carrying deer, and supply boxes lined up for inspection.

A wave parted through the many elvetahn, making space for the ostentatious deer and their riders. Bisnar, their queen, and all the royal guards approached in full regalia. Some new faces lingered among them, dressed differently—no less fancy, but certainly of odder colors and thicker cloth. As they approached, Efval’s face became clearer, tighter than a statue etched with the utmost displeasure.

_Guess Tahn said shit she doesn’t like to hear,_ Avaron mused. Bisnar took the lead in the approach, coming up with a greeting wave of his hand.

“Greetings, noble Tsugumi, and fair Avaron!”

They both waved back in kind while Bisnar came in close, the others yet remaining at a distance.

“A tent is being prepared for our meeting, if you shall join us now.”

“… Sure? The stew won’t burn will it?”

Tsugumi shook her head.

“Alright. Lead on, then.”

Not too long after, they were inside an airy, vaunting tent with a rectangular table smack in the middle. It had quite a nice design with smoothly rounded edges, a flowering and vine pattern on top, and the obvious joints connecting each section together hidden inside seamlessly. The chairs, likewise, shared much in the smooth glossy, polished look and flowery pattern. Stranger still was how wiry their frames were, full of decorative holes but still sold enough of a seating to actually sit.

_I mean they’re beautiful but …_ Avaron shifted on her seat, eye balling all the elvetahn sitting at the table. Beside her sat Tsugumi, and opposite of them sat Efval. Three elvetahn sat on her right, while four—including Bisnar—sat on her left. She hadn’t much of a clue to their rank or importance, though Bisnar technically sat on Efval’s right-hand side. A not insignificant position, in a classical sense. _Ah, it’s been a while since I sat at a high roller table. Alright, time to be a bit serious._

Folding her hands together on the table, her posture remained ever second nature. Squared up shoulders, straight back, knees and legs together underneath, hands delicately folded for an impassive façade. A cool look schooled her features, completing the entrance move to a potentially hostile negotiation. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed, judging by a few furtive glances toward her.

Only Efval remained indifferent, elegantly scowling the entire time.

Bisnar smiled, his unease quite evident in him pushing up his glasses and readjusting his sitting. “To begin, I’ve brought the workers for the inn that lady Tsugumi requested. It is no trouble for us to build such an accommodation, given our growing interests together.”

“I thank you,” Tsugumi said, bowing her head.

Bisnar nodded in kind and stood up, then looked at Avaron. “With us on this day is Daefin Splitleaf, our lead forger—”

He gestured to an elvetahn on Avaron’s right side, dressed in tight, dark leathers. His white hair was tied tightly back in a long, wispy ponytail, while he sported the biggest eyebrows she’d ever seen. They clearly shot off of his head and to the side, their tips singed in a black mark. Their eyes met, and she saw someone of a practical, wise experience. At least, one far more obvious than the baby-faced, super model elvetahn surrounding them. She nodded, as did he.

“—Aleesa Starwatcher, our revered alchemist—”

_What is with these last names?_ Avaron wondered, her gaze now directed to an elvetahn on her left. Dressed in a blue, enveloping robe, her voluminous attire rather obscured her body. Deeply dark green hair fell in a wild mess down out of her hood, and Aleesa had turn quite greatly for their eyes to meet. Unlike every other person, she wore a mask in the guise of an owl. While mostly a dark wood, feather-like flowers clouded the nose and mouth, gently billowing with every breath. Like Daefin, she too nodded, and Avaron returned it.

“—and finally, Nuala the Black, grand magi of our fair queendom.”

The last elvetahn certainly had an opposing color scheme to the others. Dressed in black robes, fanciful gold threading and strange, mathematical symbols adorned her attire. Strangely, she did wear armor of a kind, dark gray iron plating that covered her torso and lower legs snuggly, but not completely. Her angular features were creased in a visible annoyance, the kind of someone forced to be somewhere they didn’t want to be. Their eyes didn’t meet, the magi rather content to stare at the book in her hands.

“A pleasure to meet all of you,” Avaron said, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgement. If Eastern mannerisms were present in the world, she could do well to emulate them for the time being. That four others, dressed in military garb and armor not unlike the royal guard, sat but remained quiet, didn’t pass her by. _Generals, or protectors?_ she wondered, but set the thought aside.

“I’ve informed them of our prior discussion, and they’re most interested in discussing what you know about—guns.” Whether unfamiliar with the word or nervous about Efval being next to him, Bisnar’s slight pause didn’t go unnoticed by her. The queen’s fingers tightened in ever so slightly, almost wanting to make a fist. “To begin, lord Daefin …” Bisnar swept his hand in a gesture, then sat down in his chair.

“I thank the minister,” Daefin said, his voice the gruffest out of any elvetahn Avaron had heard thus far. Still, it remained a far cry from the ‘human’ idea of gruffness. “Bluntly, I have no idea how the Empire is forging these weapons. Every barrel is perfectly smooth, as if done by a supreme smith. The same of the small, moving parts, few as they are. Yet their mere rank-and-file is allowed their usage? How is this done?”

Under his piercing gaze, Avaron nodded along, and then hummed thoughtfully. “To not know of it, either this queendom lacks spies to find out, or the Empire is guarding it greatly. Unless they’re doing something insane, they’re most likely using _machines_.”

“Machines? Some sort of magic?” Daefin asked critically.

“No, simply, but it wouldn’t surprise me if these ones were being run by it. Ah … let’s see, when you are forging a sword for example, you do much of the hammering, shaping, grinding, polishing, and so forth, by hand?”

“There are some tools to help, but yes. Any real blade is tended to by hand at each step.”

“Imagine with me for a moment, then. Think of the finest blade for the average soldier you’ve made.”

A silence hung at her open prompt, and Daefin cocked a brow. “Very well.”

“Good, think of each step you had to do. Now, take a machine at each step—you teach the machine exactly what you do, and it copies you perfectly. The only thing anyone has to do, is take that sword part, put it into a machine, take it out, then put it into the next.”

Daefin frowned, his hand coming to his chin. “You are saying these machines could copy my skill?”

“They can do whatever you teach them to do, however well you can teach it. So, these machines copy your skill, and any idiot who can move metal can suddenly forge a sword as well as you do, as long as they have that machine.”

“That—that sounds ludicrous.” Daefin’s sentiment seemed echoed in the eyes of everyone else, even Nuala who looked up from her book. Only Avaron kept a serious face and shook her head.

“It is very difficult teaching a machine to do this. But once you know _how to_ , you just keep copying those machines again, and again, and again. Soon you can have a whole warehouse, all producing nearly perfect swords for the army.”

“… And these smiths, these idiots you say, they just move the metal from one machine to another?”

“Correct. If you do it smartly, you may not even need that. Each machine could send its part to the next, so you merely put the metal in at the beginning, and a sword pops out later.”

“Never in all my travels have I heard of such things,” Nuala spoke up, the sing-song tone of voice rather at-odds with her dark demeanor. “Such marvelous wonders wouldn’t be hidden for long.”

Avaron shrugged her shoulders. “Whether the Empire found it in ancient ruins, thought of it themselves, or had a heroine to teach them—the fact is, they probably are using them. In fact, they’re vital for the creation of guns.” She held up a hand toward Daefin. “As lord Daefin mentions, each weapon is nearly smithed perfectly. The violent power of guns demands such a thing, otherwise they’d just explode in your own hands.”

The tap-tap-tap of a gloved hand on the table drew all their eyes toward Efval, who straightened up from her grumpy, if dignified, slouch. “If these machines are destroyed, then the Empire cannot make guns anymore?”

_How astute._ Avaron did think on it for a moment, as much for presentation as to work it out in her mind. “Yes, but you would also need to kill everyone who knows how to make them. Otherwise, you’re simply delaying the Empire—which is useful, mind.”

Efval pursed her lips and went back to slouching. Perhaps her own thoughtful posture, in a way?

“Do you know how to make these machines, lady Avaron?” Daefin asked.

She shook her head. “While I know the theory on how they work, I am not skilled in making them. There is much they need in order to work, which will need time we probably do not have.”

“Do not think lightly of our forges, good lady,” Daefin said, a smirk cracking across his otherwise serious visage. “Now that I know how they’re being made, it is not so out of reach.”

“… I enjoy your confidence,” Avaron said with reassured look. “The body of the guns is one matter. There is the issue of ammunition, which has two components to it.”

Bisnar raised his hand in a signal, which Daefin took to sit down himself. “On that note, lady Avaron, we do have an example of the guns used by the Empire, if that helps.”

“It would, actually.”

Bisnar nodded to the guards by the entrance, and they left the tent. “It’ll be just a moment.”

“Wonderful. To be a little curt—is there anything magical in them, or their ammunition?”

Their eyes gradually crawled toward the alchemist and magi, who nodded somewhat.

“This is more your field,” Nuala said, gesturing to Aleesa.

Standing up with a rustle, Aleesa spoke, her voice muffled by her mask. “We know there to be a black powder, often poured into the gun from the end of the pipe. We do not know what it is made of, but we know there is crushed _firasis_ in it.”

_A flintlock?_ Avaron wondered to herself, but then said, “So we’re on the same idea here, what is firasis?”

Aleesa cocked her head like an owl. “A gem carrying fire magic within. It explodes when struck—very dangerous to mine.”

Avaron nodded. “Yeah, something like that would be vital. It’s probably there as a primitive blasting cap.”

“… Blasting cap?”

“It—”

The tent’s flaps pulled open, and the rustle of soldiers carrying a long box killed their conversation. Two of them dragged the rectangular container over beside Bisnar, and cracked it open. Avaron watched as a familiar sight was laid out on the table before her. In total, about four parts: the entirety of the gun itself, a bag of powder, a bag of rounded iron balls, and a plunger stick. The make of it wasn’t at all what she expected, being of a black iron and adorned in silver filigree, with an artisan’s flair of prominence on the stock.

The basic structure, however, was that of a flintlock. Minus the flint, which seemed to be a firasis crystal instead?

“If I might handle it here?” Avaron asked, hyper-aware of a deadly firearm in a room full of rather important people.

“Carefully, if you would,” Bisnar said with a tight concern to his face.

Turning her chair ninety-degrees away from the table, she picked the gun off the table, weighing it in her hands. “First rule of guns, kids, never point them at anything you don’t intend to kill,” Avaron said, bringing the stock up against her shoulder and pointing it at the floor. “These kind are a pain to load, but better ones later can load and fire in a couple seconds.”

“… A couple seconds?” Efval asked, echoing a disbelief every other elvetahn showed.

“Oh, yes. Depending on the gun, it can shoot a couple dozen times before needing to reload, too,” Avaron said, checking the cock of the flintlock. It had the same three-step procedure, and the flashpan was there as well, easy to open and shut. Rather than the firasis being on the cock like she’d expected, a tiny red gem in the flashpan greeted her eyes, and she was damn glad she hadn’t pulled the trigger. The rest of the loading looked empty, but an exploding crystal was entirely new to her. Holding the flintlock up as if to fire at the blank wall in front of her, she looked down the sight, squinting.

“Where’s the fucking gun sight?” she muttered, noticing how incredibly _naked_ the barrel was. As far as she could tell, her only choice was to eyeball her target. Avaron ran her finger down the barrel, looking for anything to flip up, but there wasn’t anything. “Huh.”

Pulling it away from her, she set the gun on the ground, barrel up, and eyeballed the tip—mindfully, not putting herself directly in the way. “No rifling either, though I doubt this kind could actually do it.” She hefted it in her hands again. “The weight’s off balance, though not terribly. Barrel’s too damn heavy and thick, but not that surprising …”

All in all, it looked and felt like a weapon that had a guiding hand in making it. At some point, it got co-opted with other ideas, especially that firasis crystal. “Right, uh, I’m done with it. It’s half-cocked so be mindful with it,” she said, holding it out to a nearby guard. He took it gingerly and returned it to its container.

Avaron rotated her chair back, and regarded the other parts before her. “That’s the ramrod—” she said, pointing at the plunger, “just to load the weapon. These balls, though …” She pulled a few out of their pouch and scrutinized them. While mostly smooth, they had little nubs at the north-and-south poles she could feel with her fingers. “Made in a mold, and the pips were sanded down after being cut. Not a bad idea, actually.”

Setting the two aside, she regarded the powder bag last. It had a bit of a firm spout, undoubtedly to help pour into the barrel. In dipping it over, she sprinkled a little of black powder onto her palm. Avaron sniffed it daintily before jerking her head back. She couldn’t help a sharp, barking cough, and slapped her chest. “Oh, yeah, that’s sulfur alright. These red specks, though, that doesn’t look right to me.”

“It is ground up firasis,” Aleesa said helpfully.

“Hm, a bit out of my experience.” Avaron, carefully sliding the powder back into its pouch, set it aside too. A certain awareness struck her then, that of many eyes watching and regarding her carefully. She coughed into her hand politely and bowed her head. “Forgive me, I was absorbed in studying it.”

“Your diligence is appreciable,” Bisnar said, brushing past it. “What are your thoughts on it?”

“They definitely got a helping hand from somewhere,” Avaron said, frowning. “This ‘sparkblast’ gun is very similar to something called a _flintlock_. It’s not the very first kind of gun ever made, and it has some innovations no one would think of just starting out. That, plus the fact some basic parts like the weight, the gun sight, and the grip were so off-key tells me they didn’t spend time doing their proper work.”

“There is no other kingdom, queendom, or empire near us who sports such weapons or machines,” Efval said, her clear tone weighing down on the air with hardly any effort.

“With all due respect, you missed something somewhere. I’d suspect a heroine or the legacy of one, given this war of yours was started before their supposed summoning.”

“Why?”

“Flintlocks are a legacy of their world, from the dawn of guns,” Avaron said with a half-hearted shrug. “And they are something I have a familiarity with.”

“And how is that, exactly?” Efval asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Avaron smiled and held a finger up to her lips. “That’s a secret.”

That impassive, disinterested façade cracked the moment Efval’s eye twitched. For a brief, fleeting moment, her anger showed itself honestly. Bisnar noticed it immediately, and moved up to draw attention to himself. “All that being what it is, lady Avaron,” he said. “How might we better fight against these weapons, in your experienced knowledge?”

“… Have you fought cannons yet? Uh, very, very large guns that are dragged by many people, or on wells. They shoot balls the size of your head, if not bigger.”

“We have not seen these weapons on the field,” one of the otherwise silent men at the table said. “The sparkblasts are the only new weapon the Empire has brought to the field.”

“That really just affirms the fact they probably got help from somewhere. If I had to guess, it was recent help and they haven’t spent a lot of time researching gun design yet.” Avaron sighed and sat back in her chair, steeping her fingers together. As she stared at the table in thought, the same man asked a question.

“What is this cannon you speak of?”

“A very large gun, designed to rip entire lines of infantry apart,” Avaron answered. “You can shoot it from thousands of footsteps away with pretty reasonable accuracy. It’s also pretty good at knocking down walls and castles, if you have enough of them.”

They all started muttering amongst themselves, a conversation at a speed Avaron didn’t care to keep up with. Only Efval remained quiet, pensive in staring down Avaron coldly. _I’m sure you want to shout me down or something,_ she thought, meeting the queen’s gaze. _But I am a little curious why you’re sitting there with a stick up your ass._

“That is a most concerning idea, lady Avaron,” the man said, scowling.

“It’s an inevitable one, I’m afraid,” she said and pulled herself up. “As to fighting against guns, I’m afraid it’s an unfair reality. Guns will soon eclipse everything, except perhaps magic that can fight at their range. The only real question is how long it takes for the newer, deadlier versions to start showing up.”

“You speak of such ill tidings but our magic barriers have already proven themselves,” Nuala said, rather distasteful in tone. “These ‘guns’ of the Empire cannot pierce them, and it renders their arrows useless.”

“How many of these barriers can you deploy?”

“Eh?”

“How long? How expensive is it? What is the stress on the magi doing it? Can you move while covered in the barrier, or are you stationary? Does it block air as well or can noxious fumes get through? What about …” One after another, Avaron asked question after question, all to Nuala’s flabbergasted pause. Seeing that she wouldn’t offer any useful answers, Avaron shook her head. “I’ve no doubt your magic has proven vital in surviving. But you are claiming superiority against an enemy who has yet to adapt to your method. Humor me, I’m certain there is some kind of material out there that interferes with these magic barriers?”

Nuala looked at Efval, who nodded once, and then said to Avaron, “There is.”

“Neat. So now the bullets of these guns is made out of that, so I imagine they can shoot through your barrier. Or break it. Right?”

“That …” Nuala’s brows knitted together, undoubtedly deep in thought.

“This is all presuming I, as an enemy general, even care about your barrier to begin with.”

“What?”

“If I build enough cannons, I can bury your army without even getting in arrow range. Now you have to come fight me, and I get to do whatever I want on the battlefield.” Oh, how their faces soured at that idea. Avaron made a show of waving her hand dismissively. “Of course, few generals are smart in that regard, but I digress. We’ve gone on about this for a while, and I am getting hungry for lunch.”

“… Indeed, it may be about that time,” Bisnar said, his ear still half-pulled toward Efval and her muttering.

“Before then, let me make something clear to you all.” Avaron smiled, captivating their attention with such few words. “I say and offer all this as your ally. I do intend to live here for quite a long while, and I’m not going to make enemies with my neighbors. I shall help you with all my knowledge on guns, to better defend yourselves and the forest with.”

She held up a finger.

“But! There is one important thing to remember. The world changes, and you must change with it. Guns represent the new future of warfare, however crude they are right now. If you do not accept this reality, and seek utter supremacy over everything related to guns, you will be crushed by those who do. Magic may yet offer a refuge, but I can scarce think of any that can keep pace.”

Avaron held open her arms in a wide presentation before folding her hands together. “That is all. The rest is up to you.” She had a lot to thank Bisnar for, as his standing presence certainly kept some choice people at bay. In leading the final words, at his gesture they all stood up, and Avaron was among the first to leave the tent.

“Sorry, that was probably boring,” she said to Tsugumi, smiling sheepishly.

“Not at all,” the spider woman said, hiding her mouth behind a sleeve. “Such dutiful behavior you have, I’m rather shocked.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe I can take you outside after all.”

Avaron knew she was being teased, but for the life of her, she didn’t understand how.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Lukewarm Intrigue

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride – Enraged Queen


	14. Ill-Fated Winds

Anger without purpose is a fire, burning all it can consume.

*~*

By the time night fell, Avaron was all too glad to retreat back to her enclosure with Tsugumi. In shutting the door behind them, she sighed, went over to their cots on the ground, and flopped over.

“Would you still like some stew?” Tsugumi asked, smiling amusedly.

“A little. Their kind of food is really rich, isn’t it?”

“It is. I am glad to see that hasn’t changed, at least.”

“Mm.”

Avaron rubbed her face and eyes, dragging her skin down before letting it snap in place. _Not quite a high-stakes board meeting but seriously, their snooty snipping never ends._ When it came down to her explaining the minutia, best she could recall, everyone was a critic at every step of the way. It wasn’t too different from when new products got brought out, minus the thin-veneer of cooperative intent. Daefin, at least, had the good mind to be interested in how machines worked and what he could do to make his own. The how and whys were tricky, especially since she had to assure him that yes, electricity could be made by wrapping copper around magnetized iron.

Aleesa wasn’t at all clear on how to create gun powder, but Avaron couldn’t fault her there. They had two different dictionaries for chemical ingredients, and describing the effects alone wasn’t enough. She’d sent her on a task surrounding sulfur and saltpeter, or their nearest approximates. While Avaron remembered those two and charcoal as vital ingredients to a proper mixture, she couldn’t remember their ratios at all. Letting out a tired sigh, she rose up at Tsugumi’s approach, accepting the simple bowl offered to her.

“Do you think it will work?” the spider woman asked, gracefully sitting down beside Avaron.

“If they all work together and do so seriously? Probably. If they keep disbelieving and trying to undermine the threat, then no, not really.”

“Mm. If they fail, what will we do? I doubt this Empire will ignore us.”

“… Flee, I suppose, or hide underground. We’re still on the edge of elvetahn territory, so we might not get much—if any—attention.”

“That is risky.”

“The whole situation is,” Avaron grumbled and threw up her hands, laying on the ground as she was.

“What about the—ehm, little ones?”

“… Hm? They’ll be quite capable once they start hatching and find their legs.”

“Oh? I was wonder—”

A knocking at their door made them pause and look over.

“Ahem, lady Avaron?” came an elvetahn’s sweet voice, one Avaron didn’t recognize.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Her majesty summons you.”

Avaron waited for anything more, but apparently that was it. Rubbing her eyes wearily, she sat up with a sigh. “What now?” she grumbled lowly, much to Tsugumi’s mischievous smile.

“Don’t sound so disappointed a queen wants you.”

“See I know you’re being cute but I’m not totally certain she won’t behead me still.”

“M-me, cute?” Tsugumi chirped, caught off-guard. She and Avaron blinked together before the spider woman hid herself away, working on the food as she was.

_Just gonna, put that one away for later,_ Avaron thought with a smirk and stood up.

*~*

The servant pulled open the flap in front of her, bidding Avaron inside. To little surprise for her, the interior was rather quite detailed—a rectangular room, defined by comfortable pillows, hanging cloths sheer enough to see through, and all manner of flowering, colorful plants. Somewhere between a greenhouse and a drawing room, the only bed there was sat at the far end, nothing more than a pile of colorful pillows and blankets. Gently burning candles lit the tent, casting dancing shadows at the edges as much as lighting the path forward. The servant passed by her, heading up to the queen reclining on her bed with all the regality her position demanded.

That she wore such skimpy, teal-colored cloth didn’t pass Avaron’s notice. Hardly any of her remained secretive, her bosomy breasts spilling out, long and shapely legs curved underneath her, and the wildness of her white hair splaying everywhere. Something akin to a toga, if its sluttier, pole-dancing cousin. Avaron rather quite envied her then—looks, comfort, the sheer haughtiness of those rich brown eyes leering at her. It oozed the atmosphere only one born into status and groomed with it over their life could have. Sipping from some clear glass cup, Efval waved her hand, and the servant departed, accompanied by six attendants.

All of them in rather skimpy, eye-catching clothes as well.

Her nose twitched at the thick scent of feminine presence in the air, intermixed with floral colors. It rather eased her nose, as much as excited her blood and set goosebumps across her skin. Avaron coughed and rubbed her nose, trying to keep those thoughts out of mind. The more mundane boxes and crates lining the tent-room proved quite distracting indeed.

“You may approach,” Efval said finally, quite clearly having downed half her glass.

_This nose really acts up at the worse times,_ Avaron thought, wrinkling the orifice. She made a show of sneezing to cover up her awkward breathing while heading over. Not entirely sure where to stand, she kept a respectable distance from Efval and her pile of bedding. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t know the exact manners you expect,” Avaron said, even _sounding_ nasally to her own ears.

“Are you sick?” Efval asked, her lip curling distastefully.

“No, I have a sensitive nose and these flowers are killing it.”

“Hm.” She sipped from her glass, seeming rather disinterested upon hearing the answer.

Avaron waited for a moment, but nothing else was said. “What did you need from me?”

“Hm.”

She rather didn’t have the patience to be fucked with. Jaw-dropping beauty and sensual invitation aside, Efval’s cold eyes felt more like knives vivisecting her right there on the spot. Avaron shrugged and turned around, “Well, if it’s not that important then …”

“I did not dismiss you.”

“I’m not standing here for you to gaggle at me, either.”

“I do not gaggle,” Efval said with a genuine taste of offense to her voice.

“Okay?” Avaron said, holding up her arms in a wide shrug. They continued to stare at one another, the whole time Efval even took another sip in before speaking.

“This _marriage_ our _estimable_ All-Father arranged …” Efval began, her nose curling with distaste. “It rather complicates things for me.”

_You don’t say,_ Avaron wanted to whip out, the sarcasm dripping at the back of her throat. Still, professionalism won at the end of the day. “I wasn’t exactly given much time or choice in the matter,” she remarked dryly.

“That much is clear,” Efval returned, her own dryness a rather surprising rebuttal. “However, he has impressed upon me your _otherworldly_ nature.”

“… Which one?”

Avaron’s suspicious question made Efval pause, perhaps blindsided by the prospect. “That of being summoned to this world, that is.”

“Oh, good. Is this the part where you try to recruit me to your cause, or …”

“What need have I of recruiting when we are already betrothed?” Efval returned, eying her nearly empty glass of probably wine or some other form of alcohol. “But that aside, I am certain my minister and the others would be delighted. It is that my potential marriages until now, you see, were important to keep certain families in the forest in line.”

“And if word get out that Tahn handed you off, they’ll get pissed.”

“Certainly not in a way to offend the All-Father, but I do not need them causing problems now of all times.”

“Yeah, I’m seeing the problem now. What do you want from me about it?”

“Your silence. Not a word to anyone, or anything, about the marriage.”

_Ouch, lady. You might have broken a lesser soul with that sort of finality!_ Avaron nodded. “I get it. Alright, I’ll agree if you do one thing for me.”

Efval narrowed her eyes suspiciously, the ugliness of a scowl casting a shadow over her beautiful face. “What is it?”

“I’m going to be living in the area for quite a while. We’ll be needing supplies and the like—not too much, and nothing fancy. It’d be a real help if we got some merchants every so often.”

The queen’s suspicion turned to confusion, her brows knitting a thought in her mind. “It is one thing to send donations, but another to entice merchants. What do you intend to trade?”

“Silk.”

_That_ caught Efval’s attention she sat up straight, her bosomy breasts swaying freely at the sudden motion. “Tora silk? Do not trick me!”

Avaron held a finger up to her lips and smirked. “Honest tora silk. Of course, starting out here it won’t be up to par, but imagine what can be done in a year or two.”

Falling back onto her bed, Efval laid her chin in her palm, her fingers tapping on her mouth. Her whole demeanor betrayed her interest, even if she seemed rather fussed by the idea. “… Very well. I will send a few personal caravans to ensure you are prepared before letting the merchants know.”

“Wonderful. And it goes without saying, I’ll keep helping in your war effort with my knowledge. I may not be much of a fighter, but I do know things.”

“As one from the other world, I have no doubt,” Efval said before setting her wine glass down on a nearby nightstand. “Your cooperation is certainly _appreciated_.”

_I’m amazed at how unappetizing she makes that sound._ Avaron gave a nod and a fanciful bow, sweeping her arms to the side.

“That is all, you will leave now.”

Avaron beat a hasty retreat, all too-glad to be gone from the tent. She still had to work out that letter to mail, after all.

*~*

_A week later …_

*~*

A light knocking came at the door, rousing her awake. She didn’t bother looking, simply saying aloud, “Enter.”

The squeaky hinge on the door whined, only softened a little by the open window in front of her. Cool air blew past her, sucking away the warmth of the candles that yet surrounded her kneeling spot. Her visitor’s light footsteps betrayed their feminine stature, along with the tell-tale rustling of baggy fabrics.

“Flamestoker,” the acolyte said nervously, standing nearby. “A letter has arrived for you.”

“A letter for mine eyes …” Gwyneth echoed, the gloom in her voice heavy for anyone to hear. She unclasped her hands and went to stand, but stopped. As ever, the darkness surrounded her wherever she looked, the guiding flame once there now long gone. Unsteadily returning back to her kneeling posture, she said without looking, “Read it.”

“Ah? Yes, one moment.”

Who would write to her directly? Any who needed of the order sent it to the monastery properly, where it then went up the steps to senior leaders. A Flamestoker she was, or used to be anyway, hadn’t much business there. Nor did she really talk with anyone afar, she hadn’t met many to care to keep talking to. That, and well, not knowing how to write made private conversations impossible. The unfolding of a cord accompanied the rustling of a leather-bound letter, a rather rich thing for her to receive.

“Ahem, it reads, uhh … ‘ _Dear Gwyneth, Sorry it took so long to write, I’ve been busy setting up my new shop. I hope you’re still not mad about that mess I made on the boat, I’m not used to sailing at night still. Thanks for the help crossing up to Shadowpeak, I’ve gone over to Alva Forest work with them elvetahn folk. Shadowpeak just about burned my ass off so no good for me. Hope you can come visit at some point, I’ll pay you back! Your friend, Tenty’_.”

_I haven’t been on a boat since …_ Confusion, disbelief, uncertainty; all sorts of emotions crept around Gwyneth’s mind. “I’m sorry, can thou read that again?”

“Certainly, it says …”

She listened again, the malaise in her mind ruthlessly slammed aside. _It can’t be, it can’t!_ Gwyneth thought, her heart hoping what her mind struggled to voice. _She’s—She’s alive?_

When the warrior priests returned battered and alone, her heart gave out at their dreadful news. To think spies from Artor had been waiting to strike within Shadowpeak itself! The moment she’d let her guard down, Avaron and Tsugumi had been slain in a fierce battle. Even though their bodies were nowhere to be found, scouring the city revealed nothing at all.

But if someone knew something so intimate—it had to be Avaron.

There wasn’t any other possibility!

“I—I see,” Gwyneth croaked and slicked back her sweat-covered forehead. “I thank thee. May I have the letter?” she asked, holding out a hand. A weight fell in her palm, the texture that of leather. In bringing to her chest, she couldn’t help running her fingers along the edges, mindful just enough not to fold or crinkle it at all. “That will be all.”

“Of, of course, Flamestoker.”

The shuffling of feet followed the creak of the door, and she was alone once more. Gwyneth’s brows furrowed underneath her visor, lips pressing thinly together. _Ah, Avaron,_ she thought, a warmth rising in her bosom. The mysterious heroine remained so elusive, even in spite of their shared intimacy. Warm, inviting, if a little uncertain in action—understandable, given her sudden arrival. What terrible misfortune she had, the rude Artor Kingdom, and then Shadowpeak’s troubles!

_When I tell the Flame Seer, we can—_ Gwyneth jerked back as the Flame, once extinguished, roared to life in front of her. Such great, terrifying heat burned away any elation its return brought, only raw, roaring anger. She held up her hands in fear as much as appeasement. “Eh? Eh?! Please, forgive me! Forgive me!” she whimpered, shrinking away from the encroaching Flame. As suddenly as it appeared, it gradually calmed, hovering before her Gwyneth ominously.

Bringing herself forward and proper, she bowed her head before the Flame. “Please, what angers thee?”

She listened, as she always did, deep within her soul.

Such was the language of the Divine, and why she was a Flamestoker.

Still, Gwyneth tilted her head, having trouble understanding. “Do not … tell the Flame Seer?” she repeated under her breath. “I do not understand, is he not fulfilling thy will?”

The Flame churned and twisted, a hint of true, unbridled anger coming through. Rather than the shouting she received, it smoldered deeper—darker. The Flame did not like the Flame Seer. Gwyneth shivered, goosebumps crawling down her skin. She had barely a moment to contemplate _why_ before a new impulse came; a divine edict.

Failing her first task, she was now to seek out Avaron again. If she succeeded, a newer task would follow.

The monastery—or, was it all of Shadowpeak?—was to be avoided.

“I—I understand,” Gwyneth said, her clasped together hands trembling. “I will go find her when mine supplies are ready.”

And so, the Flame that had left her returned, resting above her bosom. With it came the sight she’d lost, the world returning in its dim, ethereal way. Selfish of her as it was, she was most glad to see again, if through the borrowed eyes of the Divine. Even for the days she yet spent sightless, it had been the first time in her life the Flame had ever left her.

She wouldn’t give it reason to leave again.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Lukewarm Intrigue

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride – Enraged Queen


	15. Children and Parents

_We cannot change what we are born to; but we choose who our family is._

*~*

_I think I messed up somewhere,_ Avaron thought, lips pursed tightly. _This … isn’t quite what I had in mind._

The first of her drone young had hatched, crawling out of their little cocoons, each of them the size of a basketball. In designing their genome, she envisioned spiders, and she received something that only kind of superficially resembled them. They had eight legs, a central body, and that big bulbous thorax—abdomen?—at the rear, but it started to break down after that. The white-porcelain of their chitin encased a lilac-colored flesh, thrumming with her own distinctive blue plasma-colored veins.

To Avaron’s perplexity, their ‘head’ was, well, just a tentacle. Ribbed with a chitin-like plating, their circular mouths opened and closed as they tasted the air, looking around. No eyes to speak of, no fangs, no real weapons. _It’s more like a tentacle that moved in and started piloting the stupid thing like a … what is it, mech?_ _Robot?_ Sitting as she was, Avaron propped her head up on her hand, elbow on her knee. The other eggs further back were wobbling about and getting ready to hatch as well, she figured.

One of them looked over at her and trundled over. Each step wobbled its body, the legs still brand new, and the mind still unused to them. When it reached the bottom of her feet, it plopped down on them, lightly panting from its exertion. Avaron knew it to be tired not just from seeing it, but _feeling_ it in her own mind. That, more than anything else, truly disturbed her.

An acute awareness of another in her mind. She had no words for the sensation, no comparison that felt right. A brand spanking new experience that only affirmed one core detail: it, like her, was apart of the Hive. Without a thought she moved the little tentacle’s front left leg, raising it like her own. Waving it back and forth, she stepped back from controlling it, and it curled up its leg like the others as it rest.

_Such a small thing,_ she thought, looking up to see the other wandering younglings. A pressure squeezed in on her, not from anything special, otherworldly, or special.

_How am I going to feed all of them?_ Avaron wondered, the stress only a parent knew bubbling up in her mind. They didn’t really have _teeth_ so did they chew anything? Were they like spiders and liquified their prey? Did they eat flowers or something? Nothing about their biology told her because they came out in a way she simply didn’t understand. She started rubbing her temples, and soon enough the enclosure’s door opened behind her.

“I’m back,” Tsugumi said, stepping in with a box in her arms.

“Mm,” Avaron grunted, not bothering to look.

“A-are they hatching?” Tsugumi said, her question more like an accusation.

“Yeah, they just started.”

Hurried movement came from behind her, a loud clack following as Tsugumi evidently dropped the box. She came up alongside Avaron, all six eyes looking rather interestedly at the younglings bumbling around. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she hissed lowly into Avaron’s ear.

The exasperated queen squinted and waved off that aggressive air pushing in. “Because I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“… What do you mean?”

Avaron sighed. “They’re, well, drones. Part of my kind, not babies or anything. Some women kind of, well, don’t like seeing that.” Tsugumi crouched near her, silent long enough that Avaron had to look over. It wasn’t disgust she saw in those eyes, but she didn’t know enough about a ‘mothers gaze’ to really say it was that, either. At the least, it didn’t seem bad?

The spider woman held out her hands, and scooped up the youngling sleeping on Avaron’s feet. In cradling it with her arms, it seemed quite large while on its back, wiggling its legs helplessly. She stared for a while, her face shyly smiling as her eyes held their piercing, critical look. “Maybe,” she said. “I understand why. It’s strange, knowing I gave birth to this—” she poked at its ‘belly’, and the tentacle youngling gurgled with a ticklish noise.

“Maybe it is an effect of my skill, but I do not hate it, if that is what you ask.”

“I wonder if that is a good thing,” Avaron mused aloud, her dry tone drawing Tsugumi’s eyes.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Is that any different from forcing someone into liking something that they might otherwise not?”

“Mm. Not all mothers love their children, nor want them.”

“It’s not that, more like … in being a mother, your own mind tells you to love your children. You don’t ever have a choice.” Avaron lurched forward, a sudden chop of a hand connecting with the back of her head. She looked overly incredulously at Tsugumi, who stuck her nose up in the air haughtily.

“It is a gift to love,” Tsugumi said with a tone of finality. “One always has a choice in continuing to love.”

In thinking on it for a moment, Avaron rubbed the back of her head. _It’s not like I don’t agree, but … In this sort of world, when your power of choice is taken away, that idea falls flat, doesn’t it?_ She didn’t have a clue on how to convey that to Tsugumi. Her royal mate seemed content with her answer, and she rather not rock the boat with half-assed philosophizing. Letting out a big sigh, Avaron set it all aside with a big shrug. “Well, it is what it is. The bigger problem at the moment is, uh, well, feeding them.”

“This one has an idea on what it wants!” Tsugumi said with a chirp, making Avaron look over.

The tentacle youngling had twisted onto its side in its mother’s arms, its head rooting around her chest. Sucking in great gulps as its way of ‘sniffing’, its mouth groped and sucked, trying to find something. Or, rather, to get to her lovely, milk-filled tits. Avaron smiled bemusedly at the sight, her shimmering eyes looking over to the still-hatching eggs. “Is there … is there going to be enough for all of them?”

“Wel—WELL!” Tsugumi giggled tickishly, trying to hold the youngling still while it tried to find a way past her damnable dress. “I shall make soup for them all then!” At the same time she spoke, Tsugumi balanced the youngling as much as undid the folds covering her chest. Avaron couldn’t help eyeballing those lovely, plump breasts popping out with a little jiggle and flop. The youngling honed in immediately, latching onto her engorged tit with a gulping swallow. Nearly half her tit disappeared in its mouth as it started sucking and gnawing with its gums.

Tsugumi jumped in her skin, visibly shuddering but smiling with bewilderment at the sudden chomp. “H-hey, be gentle!” she hissed at it, squeezing its ‘cheeks’ with two of her hands.

Avaron’s cheeks puffed up at the sight. When two of Tsugumi’s eyes shot toward her, she hurriedly stood up and went over to their supply boxes. “I’ll, uhh, lay out the soup materials and get some towels!”

“You do that.”

In the midst of her work, Avaron opened up her info-screen, heading over to [Hive Management]. _You know, I’m a little curious now what it says … ah, there it is._

[Immature Worker]

[This drone is templated after a multi-purpose worker, but it is still immature. It will reach adult-size in approximately two weeks.]

_And here’s a bunch of stats but I have no idea what these mean at all._ Avaron rolled her eyes. _Well, more to look into later, at least. Still, feeding all these for two weeks is kind of … eh. No, no I just can’t rest on getting food together, is all. Time to get off my ass._

*~*

Heavy thumps followed the rustling of heavier clothes, all hastened by Arzha’s great—if dignified—speed down the hallway. Haleen trailed behind her, almost in a full job to keep up with the first princess’ great strides. Across the carpet they sped, Arzha’s eyes locking onto a door that approached from on head. Two plate-equipped guards stood at attention, their heads turning toward her the closer she came.

“Open it,” Arzha demanded, coming to stand before the tall, oaken-wood doors.

A guard to the side said, “The King and the Prince are currently—“

  
“Did I stutter?” Arzha asked, her eyes _sliding_ over to man, all but cutting him down where he stood.

He and the other guard bowed their heads, and in practiced unison, stepped in and opened the doors. Arzha spared them nothing more, walking in to the royal drawing room. To her immediate left and right, against the wall she now walked in from, stood a floor-to-ceiling set of bookshelves, filled with all sorts of books, scrolls, and other thoughtful trinkets. Further ahead sat a large, rounded table adorned with a dozen seats, while couches dotted the room surrounding smaller, cozier tables. Such a familiar sight, all cast in the afternoon light of the enormous glass window-doors sitting at other end of the room.

Her gaze couldn’t help locking onto the people who _didn’t belong_ in such a room. Five of the divine heroines sitting at the round table, dressed in their strange and otherworldly attires. King Fornard and Prince Samuel looked utterly out of place, laughing and entertaining them as only the best dignitaries deserved. Arzha’s jaw clenched tightly, the only crack in her frigid façade. “My father, the King,” she said in greeting, only giving Samuel the most passing of glances.

If the room had quieted at the doors opening, dead silence soon filled the air. King Fornard straightened himself up in his chair, his grizzled visage sliding into a cool, regal demeanor in mere moments. In spite of his graying hair, he was yet a man in his prime, with all the imposing strength of a long-seasoned warrior. “Princess Arzha,” he greeted, the deep baritone filling the air as it ever did. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“They are not words for foreigners to hear,” Arzha said, giving the most _pointed_ of glances at the heroines sitting at the table. None over twenty summers, and most far younger than that, baby-faced and dumbstruck. A mere look was all it took to make them shrink back and give ground, so utterly unbefitting of their status. “Might they be dismissed?”

“There’s no reason to be rude to my guests, sister!” Samuel cut in, smacking his hand against the table. “It wasn’t easy getting the Church to—”

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

Samuel sucked his lips in for a moment at the proverbial slap. Despite inheriting their father’s good looks, he still had an air of boyish youth despite the decorated uniform covering him. Indeed, Arzha couldn’t help noticing how much more out of the way he went to dress up and stylize, like a man dressed to impress. Her gaze swept over the heroines again, distinctly noticing how they were all actually _women_. Quite a number of men had ended up being summoned this time around, that she knew for a fact. The unsavory implication sat on her mind for a moment before her father raised his hand.

“It is well enough, speak, Arzha.”

“Why were my envoys to the Gern Kingdom and Burtar Queendom recalled by your order?”

“Oh? It’s about that?” King Fornard said, rubbing his short, neatly trimmed beard. “Given how matters are turning out, it is best if none of ours stood in foreign lands for the time being.”

“And how are we to assure our neighbors if our diplomats are _not there_?”

“I’ve already dispatched a number of official letters. If that is not enough to assure them, then that is their own trouble.”

Arzha couldn’t even believe what she was hearing. “What of the outstanding agreements yet to be signed? I had both of them ready and willing—”

“—All without my permission, is it?” King Fornard said, coolly giving Arzha a flat stare. “In spite of your rank you do not have authority to act so blatantly.”

She did, or did once, anyway. Was her father really going to deny the work she did while her mother yet lived? Utter, absolute madness. Samuel seemed rather amused by it all the same, smiling in the way only a gloating asshole could achieve. Still, she rose above him as she ever did. “I see. Then, I am to presume your letters are enough to stop them from raising their armies for war?”

“Watch your tongue, Arzha.” Fornard sighed despite the seriousness of his words, and gestured toward her with a roll of his hand. At the same time, he leaned over and spared a look to the heroines. “My daughter does take after her mother and worries too much, do not pay her any mind.”

“Ah, that is … alright,” one of them said, a tiny mouse of a person in a room filled with lions.

Pulling himself back properly, Fornard regarded Arzha. “If it sets your mind to ease, I’ve spoken with the Church and one of their armies is coming here to Artor.”

“… What?” Arzha said, experiencing a real, full out of body disconnection at hearing those words.

“It is in their interest and ours that our neighbors don’t step in and do unsavory things to the heroines. Really, now, Arzha, you should’ve known better about this.” He held a finger up to his temple and rubbed in soothing circles. “The matter is well in hand, so focus your efforts on working with the Church when they arrive.”

“I see. Then, how foolish of me. If that is all?”

“Mm, only one thing. Try not to act without my permission in the future, it does not reflect well on us. I know you meant well, but there are proper ways.”

“I shall keep it in mind, Father.”

“Then, you are dismissed.”

Arzha turned, the picture of a perfect turn and utmost straightened back, leaving the room. Haleen followed after her wordlessly, and the doors shut behind them, all the frost of her arrival vanishing. For long, silence-filled minutes they walked, Arzha mindlessly navigating the royal castle. Her destination lay in a particular passage, an open-air walkway that served as a lesser used service access between the main castle and the barracks. It was there that, if one stopped and leaned on the railing, they could see the interior gardens, filled with vibrant flowers and stylized bushes.

One of the few places Arzha could be and find some peace, in an otherwise hectic place.

The princess slouched against the railing, her tall physique making the whole angle rather unfortunate. Folding her hands together, she laid her chin atop them, staring out at the idyllic scenery without seeing any of it at all. “I think we’re doomed, Haleen,” she said simply.

“… My lady?”

“I can’t do any of my maneuvers anymore. No matter how highly regarded I am, I am still but the princess. Now my father is placing the neck of our entire country into the jaws of the Church. I just … I don’t understand him. Was he always this stupid?” Arzha spread open her hands, waiting for an answer from anyone, or anything. “Mother wasn’t a lovestruck idiot, she married smartly. Did her death strip him of all his sense?”

“It is not really my place to speculate, my lady.”

“I know.” Arzha let out a long, suffering sigh, burying her face into her hands. “It is just … funny, in a way.”

“How so?”

“How utterly powerless I am to do anything. I stand here, watching my entire country walk into its own destruction. What good am I as a princess if I cannot stop that?” Arzha stood up then, straightening on pure instinct to a proper posture. “I’m watching a great storm coming, and no matter how much I scream, I rage, I move to out run it, it will catch up to me. All I can do is pray that somehow we’ll survive its passing.”

“I wish I only had the words to help, my lady.”

“Mm.”

They yet remained there for a long while, the sun slowly inching across the sky. It would be the sound of heavy boots approaching that roused their attention. Arzha looked over and found Magna approaching, carrying two large, leather-bound letters under her arm. Reaching them, the prim-proper woman bowed respectfully, then held out the letters.

“News from afar, my lady. The post marks it arriving a few days ago, and having been sent long before that.”

Arzha took them both and gave their covers a once over. One was addressed to the _Moonlit Rose Inn_ , the other without an address but a certain, circular symbol that her spies utilized. She opened the latter first and skimmed its contents. All the anger and indignation still within her dropped out underneath, a bottomless pit in her stomach swallowing it all up. Her hand yet remained steady even as her face creased with the utmost, naked worry either of her knights had ever seen.

“My lady?” Haleen asked uncertainly.

“The Empire is massing its soldiers on its southwestern border.” Arzha turned the letter over, but found no other writings. “Judging by their supply movement, it will be an enormous campaign to invade the Free Hardain State.”

“… Their arms are not so great as to need so many,” Magna said, curling a gloved hand under her chin.

“They won’t stop there. And who is on the other side of the Hardain?”

Both her knights blinked, and just like her, their faces darkened to a terrible frightfulness.

“The Church’s army will not be enough if the Empire _and_ all our neighbors decide to have open season on us. Unless, somehow, we all come together to fight the Empire again.” Arzha shook her head and handed over the letter to Magna, letting her hold onto it. Turning her attention to the other, she opened it up and started reading.

_‘Dear pretty blonde and blue eyes—’,_ Arzha blinked at the rather _raw_ address. _‘I hope things are well for you. I managed to get up north toward Shadowpeak, but some bad business went down. Long story made short, we went eastward and I’m setting up shop with the elvetahn folk in the forest. Nice, if really stuck up and formal.’_

_Aren’t the elves at war with the Empire?_ she wondered, almost certain that they were actually. _There wasn’t a declaration but the merchants talked about how sudden it was. Interesting?_

_‘Anyway I’ll write a return address at the bottom here. Now you’ve done right by me so I figured I’d try and give some help here. I don’t know if you know about this, but the Arden Empire has new weapons that have royally, absolutely kicked the life out of the elvetahn here.’_

Arzha straightened up even more, her gloved hand crinkling the paper as she read the words. “You have to be kidding,” she muttered under her breath. The elves were, in no uncertain terms, an unassailable fortress. Attacking them, however much some have fantasized about it, was an impossible reality.

The Empire was _winning against them?_

_‘The Empire calls them ‘sparkblasts’, but if you can, talk to the heroines about something called ‘guns’. They’ll know the theory and workings of guns first hand, and it might be vital to help you survive. On the next page is a breakdown of how guns work, so you can start figuring out how to deal with them and maybe make your own.’_

Arzha looked on the next page immediately, seeing an incredibly dense and wordy page describing all sorts of things. She shook her head and went back, reading the rest of the letter.

_‘For the time being things are pretty okay here. If you need somewhere to hide, come pay me a visit—fair is fair, after all. Good luck with your war, hope no one you like dies._

_Sincerely, Your Ally.’_

Arzha stood there, staring at the page for a long minute.

“My lady?” Haleen asked uncertainly. “What does it say?”

“… A ray of hope, in this dismal storm that is about to come. Summon the Sisterhood and be ready to reach out to my allies.” Arzha looked over to the instruction-filled page, ever so light in her hand, but worth more than all the gold in her father’s kingdom. “We have work to do. A lot of work.”

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Interested Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride – Enraged Queen


	16. Vested Interests

_Fearsome is those who expect a return on investments._

*~*

The creak of iron-against-iron filled the air, a red-light spilling in through the sudden opening of a door. A figure dressed in black robes stepped through, shutting the door behind them just as noisily as it opened. The solid ‘thunk’ of metal coming to a rest masked their footsteps as they walked toward the small room’s sole table. Four tall, vaunting thrones awaited at the gray-wood table, three others sitting in them dressed in the very same robes.

“Forgive my lateness,” the approaching figure said, her tone lovingly velvety upon the ears. “I couldn’t leave the Empire just yet.”

“It is well,” one of the figures at the table said, a voice of masculinity and depth that commanded attention. “Your report was enough for us to conduct our review.”

“Ah, but I love hearing how you all are doing!” the woman complained as she took a seat. “How else am I going to know what is going on?”

“… The next meeting will be more interesting,” a third interjected, rasping with their words.

“Are we still on time for the Empire invading Artor?”

“Not quite,” the second said with a suffering sigh. “Even with the Church’s army coming to Artor, tensions are not as high as I would like. It’s challenging pushing those former friends to true conflict.”

“Ehh? I won’t be able to push the invasion back once we invade the Hardain, you know?”

“I know, I know,” the second grumbled and shrugged his shoulders. “We came to the decision to delay for a couple months and let tensions boil up more, if you can manage that.”

“Well, it’s a bit long but winter will come by the time we finish Hardain. I can probably make it convincing to launch a more earnest effort in fresh spring. That will mean nearly a year before we reach Artor, and those heroines might grow out of control.”

“Leave them to me,” the fouth, once silent, now spoke with her resolute words. “The Church is loath to leave them unsupervised, so it will not be difficult delaying their training. Although, there is a matter of the thirteenth one.”

“The tentradom?” the third asked. “Does it matter?”

“While you may not consider her that important,” the fourth said dryly, “it is the first time a non-human has ever been summoned. For that matter, such a dangerous creature walking around with the false gods’ blessings is rather … problematic.”

“Do you even know where she is?”

“I tracked her to Shadowpeak, but she disappeared shortly after. Supposedly, some Flame priests found and torched her to death according to an _eye witness_.”

“Is the matter not done, then?” the third asked.

“The priestesses in Artor never sensed her soul leaving. She is still alive, somewhere.”

“I don’t like loose ends,” the second interjected, laying a gloved hand on the table as to prove his point. “If you have the time, spend more in tracking her down. We all know what tentradoms can do, and it’s best if one blessed by the false gods doesn’t get a chance.”

The other three made agreeing sounds, in their own ways.

“Still,” the first one said, “I’ll be stuck with a lot of soldiers and nothing to point them toward in the Empire.”

“What about the elves?” the second asked.

“Holed up pretty tight, even after all their losses. I’m not sure I could take them out before we need to invade Artor.”

“You don’t need the whole forest. Break their back enough they won’t be getting up again.”

“… Easier said than done, but ahh—” The first sighed and leaned back in her chair, kicking her legs up over the thick and sturdy arm. Her robes hiked up enough to expose her bare feet and pale, moon-kissed flesh all the way to her mid-thigh. Thin, black fish-net stockings hugged her legs, offering a most tempting sight of luscious softness. “These guns of yours are pretty nice. If I can get the big ones out in the front lines, then their last fortress city shouldn’t be that much of an issue.”

“It’s good to get them working and vetted before Artor’s invasion anyway,” the second said, ever the professional. “There’ll be far more to fight if that whole group of kingdoms huddle together into an alliance again.”

“Okay. Nothing unexpected happens, I think I’ll still meet time. But if I get bogged down, what can you all do?”

“… I can have the Church intervene as a ‘human salvation’ measure,” the fourth said after a minute of quiet thought. “It’ll do well to fan the flames of hate and quite possibly keep Artor’s alliance from forming.”

“Mmm, okay, that should work. Worst case we might be delayed a year or two if things go really bad.”

“Do you expect them to?” the third rasped out with a notable tone of disbelief.

“Nooo, not at all!” the first laughed and clapped her hands. “But you all get on my ass about never meeting time! I’m working on it, okay?!” Despite their faces all be shrouded, the first one knew they were giving her the driest of looks. “How mean! I worked hard getting the new Emperor between my thighs and now look at what I can do!”

“… It is that you accomplish so much despite your youth I am glad to have you here,” the second said, ever gracefully dodging around the problem. “Still, now that the heroines are here, we don’t have time to spare. If they grow out of control, everything may fall apart.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” the first second, waving her hand like a cat pawing the air. “I got a look at some of them! Those kids wouldn’t know what to do if a real woman came by and ‘guided’ them.”

“I’d rather you left them to my guidance,” the fourth said with a terse annoyance. “It’s difficult enough as it is trying to handle their ‘otherworldly’ views.”

“I’m just saying!” The first held up her hands in appeasement. “Sex works wonders in making people do what you want.”

“Quite.” The fourth looked over toward the third. “How is the preparation going for the materials His Divinity requires?”

“Slow, but well. The rarest components give the greatest trouble, unfortunately.”

“Not unexpected. Do what you can with your people, I’ll have the Church intervene on whatever it is we are missing when the time comes.”

“Of course.”

*~*

“Seriously? You already have a working prototype?”

“If you mean an example piece, then yes,” Daefin said, elegant if not smug in tone.

Avaron still had trouble believing him, but merely shrugged. Led by Daefin and some guards, they walked down alongside the river, heading into a more open, cleared out area. Per her advice, it did resemble a gun range—firing line on one end, and mounds of dirt on the other to absorb shots. It ended up bigger than she expected though, probably longer than a hundred meters give or take. As they approached, she took note of Aleesa, Nuala, Efval, and that other elvetahn man who was at the meeting a while ago.

_Well well well, high roller day today,_ Avaron thought as their two groups met. A few colorful looks went her way, probably eyeballing the elvetahn-styled dressed she wore. The white cloth was a shade darker than her actual skin, while colorful green and teal flowers adorned a tree-like embroidery. It was, ostensibly, a polite day dress, but the long slits up the sides and two-panel skirt somehow made her feel _more_ naked. “So!” Avaron clapped her hands and rubbed them together excitedly. “I hear there’s a new gun for me to shoot?”

“Yes, there is,” the unnamed man said and, giving a pleasant-if-business-like smile, held out his hand to Avaron. “General Bladedance.”

“Avaron,” she said, returning the light-mannered handshake. “Is that a title or your actual name?”

Bladedance blinked and chuckled. “It is considered proper to have a warrior’s name. All the ills of battle follow that, than your own.”

“Sensible enough. What can I do for you, general?”

He held out his hand in a sweeping motion to the nearby table-bench, which had a rather curious arrangement on it. “I was hoping to have your wise opinion on our innovations.”

“That’s why I’m here … my, you actually made bullets!” Rather than the gun prostrated on a bunch of fancy sheets, Avaron immediately went to the trays of bullets beside it. They were made out of something silvery rather than bronze or brass, but the pointed tip was there, and the back end of it did have what looked like a rounded blasting cap. In picking one up carefully, she eyed and felt along it softly, noting its perfect smoothness and exacting dimensions. “There’s no way you made machines already!”

“We haven’t, no,” Daefin said, standing beside her. “It is an ancient technique involving metal when it is liquid. Our most prized weapons are forged through it, but such a method is most expensive.”

“Well, if you can find a way to do it cheaper, it’s a great working solution until you got machines going,” Avaron remarked, looking down the sight of the bullet. “Steel core and explosive powder on the inside, right?”

“Correct,” Aleesa said. “The mixture is one to send the core out, but I am not certain if it is strong enough.”

“That’s a bit tricky. Different cores and different bullet designs want different kinds of mixtures. The important thing is knowing what the mixture is and what that specific bullet and gun can do. If you want something different, make a new gun and a new bullet.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

“Right, let’s take a look at this beautiful thing,” Avaron declared, delicately slipping her hands under the perhaps first-of-its-kind elvetahn made rifle. The polished, white-wood stock wove around the barrel as a tree would with its roots, the grip itself most exacting for a hand to hold. A silvery-gray barrel ran down the length and out further, perfectly smooth as it needed to be, embellished with teal filigree. It look rather like a painted pillar, depicting some esoteric piece of nature than a weapon made to kill.

Avaron looked at its sides before regarding the bolt and the rounded knob jutting out to the right side. She grabbed and yanked it open, then slammed it shut, then did so again and again. A frown creased her brow, and Daefin hovered nearby, a tinge of worry on his brow.

“What is the matter?”

“Is this just pure metal sliding against metal in here?”

“Yes, it should be.”

“Mmm, problematic. You definitely want a lubricant.”

“A … lubricant?”

Avaron hefted the weapon in her hands, testing its weight when held normally, then when butted up against her shoulder. “Metal against metal grinds down and distorts, especially when there’s a lot of heat involved. The gun barrel _will_ get hot from repeat shooting and a soldier has no time to wait for it to cool down. And, as metal gets hot …” she looked over pointedly at him.

“… It can distort and damage easier,” Daefin affirmed, nodding with sagely understanding.

“Bingo. Lubricant helps the parts move against each other and keep the heat down somewhat. The weapon will still get damaged if you push it too hard. But! A really good lubricant will dramatically extend not only its life time, soldiers don’t have to worry about it breaking as easily.” Satisfied at how it felt when holding it, Avaron gave the bolt a few more snaps open and shut. “Aleesa over there might be able to help. A lot of good lubricants are found in different types of oils. You need one that can let the parts move easily, not gunk up the gun, and don’t ignite when it gets hot.”

“That is not an easy feat to achieve,” Aleesa remarked, the dryness in her voice muffled by the mask.

“Yet ever so important. Anyway, the weight balance is great, and the bolt works pretty well despite no lubricant. I’m noticing the iron sights here, they’re workable. Your eyes might be different from mine, so, I’d have elvetahn test out that detail.”

“Of course,” Daefin said, nodding.

“If there’s nothing else then, walk me through how you want me to load and shoot this thing.”

It was fairly straight forward, and Daefin had kept true to her instructions—bolt open, bullet in, slam bolt shut. Lacking the tools for clips or magazines, single-shot bolt action seemed the most usable weapon for her to suggest. With the elvetahn rifle loaded, she held it up against her shoulder, taking aim. Shuffling her feet and adjusting her posture, Avaron tried to recall the right stance, even if it’d been years since her last time at a gun range. A target stood down the field, the straight-cut board of some wood with iron plates dangling off of it.

Taking aim, she pulled the trigger, only to find it rather staff. A bit more force and the gun fired, a distinct _crack_ that had an odd color to its sound. Something different about it from what she’d expected; regardless, the bullet went off target, hitting the dirt far behind with a tiny dirt cloud indicating it. Half-nodding to herself, Avaron pulled the bolt back, and noted how the now spent casing ejected out on its own. “Oh, good, I was worried about that.”

“About what?”

“A spent casing in a gun can get hot and troublesome to get out. You always want to have the gun eject it when the shooter is going to put new ammo in.”

“When you mentioned how some gun could shoot multiple times quickly, I wondered how.” Daefin gestured to the bullets. “Upon seeing these, I thought that some way to make the casing, as you say, come out on its own would be good.”

“Yup. If the casings are designed for it, you could even refill them and use them again, but that’s a whole set of problems on its own.”

She went through a dozen more shots, honing in until she was hitting the iron plate by her last five shots quite consistently. Making sure the gun was clear, she set it down on the table gently. “The trigger is too-tight for me. Have the soldiers test that out to see what they’re comfortable with. You don’t want a tight trigger that takes so much force you end up aiming the gun wrong—even the _slightest_ wrong pressure can ruin a whole shot.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

“Some fine tuning and a bit of clean up work, and honestly, you have the first real, functional bolt-action rifle I think this world has ever seen.” She looked around to the assembled elvetahn, and for want of anything better, gave them a thumbs up. “Good job.”

They all kind of looked at each other, relieved but thoughtful in a way of people expecting more work.

“If it is no trouble, lady Avaron,” Bladedance asked, “there is another part of it I want your opinion on.”

“Oh?”

“Lady Nuala?”

“Hmph.” The stuck-up magi walked over and stood beside Avaron. In picking up a bullet, she held it in her fingers while her other hand faced it with her palm. She muttered something under her breath, and a strange, ethereal light started surrounding the bullet. Teal lines, like those on the barrel, soon wrapped around the entire bullet, glowing with magical power that tickled Avaron’s senses. “There. Use this,” she said, handing the bullet over like one would a disgusting insect.

Avaron blinked at the suddenness of it and looked over to Bladedance. “What is this?”

“A magical enhancement to the bullet. One meant to deliver more power and a straighter shot.”

“… That might not be a good thing, but alright. I’ll give it a shot. Anything special I need to do?”

“No, just load and fire as any other.”

Nodding, Avaron picked up the bolt-action rifle, loaded, and took aim. The rest of the weapon itself didn’t react or anything, and once the bullet was in, she couldn’t see anything different whatsoever. Confident all was well, she took the shot, and the crack that followed sounded far different than the ones from before. A sucking slash of air, as if it was cutting through the thinnest space possible, punctuated the crack. The rifle kicked a little harder into her shoulder, and the bullet _vanished_ down range with its incredible speed.

The smack of something against iron rang out, and Avaron saw with stunned surprised how half the plate she shot had ripped off completely. Blinking, she stared at the rifle, then the broken target, before gently setting the rifle back down again. “That’s got quite the punch!” Avaron said with a laugh. “I’ll need a couple more to see how it handles, though.”

“Of course. Lady Nuala, if you do not mind?”

“It is why I am here,” Nuala grumbled, and set about enhancing another ten bullets. Avaron loaded and shot them all, blasting away the targets completely, then chunks of the actual wooden board itself. When she finished, she set the gun down finally and started rubbing her wrists. The pain of exertion, however, soon disappeared in mere seconds. She kept going, all the same.

“Interesting. Very interesting.”

“What are your thoughts, Lady Avaron?” Bladedance asked.

“Oh, there’s a couple. So, the straighter shot means more effective range—a soldier with this can be much farther away and still be lethal. I was worried about the punching power, but its so intense it’d rip a hole the size of a fist through someone. The gun itself kicks a bit harder, so a soldier might become more fatigued using such intense shots.”

“I see. In truth I would like to use such ammunition, but, as you can see, the magical enhancement greatly depends on those enhancing it. As our best, lady Nuala’s is understandably very powerful.”

The magi seemed to preen under the praise, even as she remained disinterested and looking into her ever-present book.

“I have an idea about that, actually,” Avaron said. “If you don’t mind me trying to give a general tactics.”

“My ears are ever open to your words, lady Avaron,” Bladedance said with a smile that definitely meant to be charming.

_Uhh, okay._ Avaron made a show of scratching her temple. “If you can take your finest shots, the ones who can hit at the best ranges and kill, you can make a kind of soldier called a _sniper._ By taking all that skill, if you send them after enemy leaders—generals, commanders, squad leaders, whatever …”

“It would allow us to kill otherwise difficult to reach targets,” Bladedance said, a fist curled under his chin. “We already employ such a tactic, our special archers meant to signal out high value targets. It wouldn’t be too difficult to equip them with these guns, I imagine.”

“That’s up to them and you. But until you have a lot more guns up and going, it might be the best gun-per-soldier use you can get right now.”

“Yes, yes, I’m seeing that now …”

They spent some time sussing out details, such as flanking, entrapment, and other applications a _sniper_ might fall under. It was during this conversation that an elvetahn knight, riding on a hopping deer, came at them with all haste. All eyes fell upon him as he neared Efval, shouting, “My queen!” He held out a cloth-bound letter, which one of the nearby attendants took. In giving it to Efval, the attendant bowed away as the queen read the message.

Her face darkened by the moment, all the other elvetahn suddenly becoming tense. She spared a glance at the knight and said, “Leave.”

He nodded and did so.

“What is it, my queen?” Bladedance asked, his good humor gone in an instant of deadly seriousness.

“The Empire is massing on our border again. The troops from their southern reach have returned.”

“They intend to attack in winter?”

“Or do so before the cold settles in.”

“That …” Bladedance’s face contorted. “Even for the Empire, that is a reckless move.”

“Nonetheless it is the one they are making. We must return to Branchfall immediately to prepare.”

“I understand.” Bladedance turned around. “Lady Avaron, I thank you for your help. It seems this new gun of ours will be put into use soon.”

Avaron nodded. “I wish you luck in a sound victory.”

The many elvetahn bowed and politely excused themselves until all that remained were Avaron, Efval, and the queen’s guards, ever at a respectable distance. Half-ready start walking up the river bank again, Avaron paused when she noticed Efval standing by the new bolt-action rifle. From the side she saw, the queen had a pensive look on her face. Different from all the other anger-driven expressions she’d seen thus far. While she had the opportunity for a clean get away, it was poor form to leave a client unattended.

Drawing herself up properly, Avaron stepped over to the queen, standing beside her at what she hoped was a proper distance. “Is there something wrong with the gun?” she asked, a voice and tone practiced for a neutral, unoffensive opening.

“Hm?” Efval glanced at Avaron from the corner of her eye. “No, it performed as I expected.”

“You seem displeased with something about it.”

“It is not Daefin’s craftsmanship.”

Knowing the stonewall for what it was, Avaron wasn’t certain how to get around it tactfully. One last trick might work, though. “So it is. Well, if there is anything you’d like me to tell the others in your stead, I can.” Silence answered back, and waiting for few minutes, Avaron took the hint to leave. In turning around, she about took two steps before Efval’s voice caught her ear.

“Is the future truly filled with such dishonorable weapons?”

Avaron looked over again, but Efval yet regarded the rifle on the bench. “For this world, I’m not certain. Magic can enhance them as much as oppose them. Were it not for that … yes, the future is guns, and far worse.”

“… Worse?”

“In their pursuit for greater destructive power, humanity made ever more terrifying weapons. Guns that could lob explosive shots from across the horizon—artillery. That was not enough. They made bigger bombs, and then machines that could fly through the air to drop them. Soon enough, a single day of attacking could level a whole city.” Avaron knew they were not words one in disbelief wanted to hear, but she felt they needed to be said. “Will magic soften that terrible power, or make it even worse? Only time will tell.”

“There are some mages who claim power of that kind. They’re often called ‘queendom-level threats’, able to tear down a whole country on their own.” Efval reached forward, and with a white glove, traced her finger across the length of the rifle. “But you don’t need the lifetime of work they do for these. Anyone who knows how to pick it up, load, and shoot, can kill even a warrior with centuries of battle experience.”

“In fairness, the weapons I speak of take great innovation, and even greater support, to make. One needn’t fear some hermit of a mage showing up one day.” Avaron coughed into her hand, rather conscious of her own arrival all of a sudden. “If one knows their neighbors, they can watch for such terrible power before it comes true.”

“Something we are terribly poor at doing, it seems,” Efval remarked darkly. “For the Empire to build these weapons and catch us unaware … Baval will certainly find a way to kill me when I meet her.”

“Sorry, who?”

“My sister.”

“Ah.” Avaron wasn’t certain if that was the dead one or another one, given Tahn’s remarks about having ‘many daughters’.

“She was among the first to die to the Empire’s guns.” Efval looked up, staring at the blue sky and its few clouds. “We captured the one who did it—a farmer. A mere farmer who worked fields and couldn’t even do mathematics. My sister died such a dishonorable death.”

“If I, might speak out of place for a moment?”

Efval snorted, a rueful smirk adorning her otherwise sharp face. “Very well.”

“I do not think it was dishonorable. The way that guns change everything—I cannot blame those who have never fought them.”

“Then how would you say she died?”

“Fighting to defend her home and everyone in it, I would think. In time, that will be how everyone dies. The lucky ones will have enough of a body to be buried by the end of it.”

“Hm.”

Whether intentionally or not, Efval’s foreboding presence spoke well enough for Avaron to leave. She gave a bow even if the queen couldn’t see it. “Good luck in your coming battles.”

“Quite.”

And so, Avaron left, the queen remaining in front of the gun her people had made.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Interested Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride – Foreign Queen


	17. Expanding the Hive

_Curiosity is a dangerous beast to leave unleashed._

*~*

“Why are we sitting in the dark?”

“It’ll turn on any second now. Aaaany second.”

“It has been several seconds now.”

“Listen, I know it’s working.”

“We are still sitting in the dark.”

“I mean, you can leave if you wa-aanT?!”

“Ahu ahu ahu ahu, what is this? So soft!”

“Coum, come on! Oh!”

“Mmm, you never let me play with these. How rude!”

“T-they’re not that grea-AT OW!”

“They are lovely.”

“S-stop pinching me!”

“Say it, they are lovely.”

“Come—ohh, ohh …” Avaron couldn’t believe Tsugumi’s rough groping was actually turning her on! Ten firm, hardy yet supple fingers sinking into her modest chest. In spite of the elvetahn dress, it rather felt like those chitinous hands were on her directly. She squirmed and twisted, trying to pull away with what futile energy she still had. “Come on,” she moaned out.

“Say it.”

“They’re really not though!” Avaron protested, only to find her two arms being forced behind her back. It was then she realized one distinct advantage Tsugumi had—two hands to pin hers, and two to do work. In the dark of the hive tunnel, the crafty spider hugged Avaron from behind. Tsugumi hooked her legs around Avaron, completing the pinning maneuver. “Hey!”

“I am not letting go until you say it.”

Avaron bit her lip as the hands on her boobs shifted from a wild, groping grab to something more methodical. Tsugumi rolled her palms and squeezed with her fingers, moving in a gentle but _so very exciting_ motion. Her poor nipples were already stiffening up, only to be caught between two fingers. Push in, squeeze just enough her toes tingled, and then pull out, those fingers tight on her areola. The tentradom queen let out a long, hot moan under her breath, rather unprepared for how expertly done the move was.

Tsugumi’s head nuzzled in against hers, and her mate’s warm, velvety voice _breathed_ into her ear. “Say it,” she sang ever so gently.

“Mm!” Avaron grunted in refusal, trying to wrench free. _I’m the tentacle monster here! Where’s all my tentacles?!_ she thought while a delectable shudder crept all the way out from her chest and down her spine. Goodness she just wanted to push her tits hard into those delightful hands! Try as she might, she barely managed a wiggle, let alone moving her limbs. Avaron arched her back, her chest pushing forward as her head sank further into Tsugumi’s neck. A needy, moaning whine keened in her throat, much to her embarrassment.

“Ahu? What a sound—”

A light flickered to life above them, blasting both their eyes with the sudden brightness. They both reflexively jerked and covered their eyes, which meant Avaron could free herself from Tsugumi. For as much as writhing on the floor and rubbing her eyes counted as freedom, at least. “Ha—ha! It works!” she squeaked out, thrusting a finger up at the ceiling. “I knew you stupid proteins would work!”

“Pro-what?”

“A building block of life, don’t worry about it.” Her vision clearing up, Avaron stood, squinting and _oh-so-mindful_ of her buzzing chest. The dress’ slightest movement on her nipples was gratingly electric, almost painful. Still, she pushed through. Down both ends of the hive tunnel they were in, more and more lights turned on. Soon they were completely lit up; so well in fact there virtually wasn’t any shadows left.

At the least, this experiment panned out. Nestled in the ceiling was a rectangular, natural grown ‘crystal’, filled with a highly reactive liquid-protein mix. In theory, it had an intensely high magic capacity—which, when combined with the magic spell [Illumination], created a light source. One that the naturally grown lamp could turn on or off as she wanted. Avaron spent a moment thinking, and the next the lamp overhead turn off. Another thought, and it turned on again.

“Is it broken?” Tsugumi asked, coming to stand up next to Avaron.

“No, it works perfectly. Turns off—” it went off, “—and on again—” you guessed it, “—just like that. There, now we won’t be blind down here!”

“How did you make this? Not even other magi can do so so easily.”

“Well, I half-expected it not to work. You might say I’m cheating a little bit.”

“Cheating?”

“The walls, floor, the lights—all of this is part of the Hive, one singular, living being. I simply want certain lights on, and they will come on.”

“Mm.” Tsugumi’s head tilted to the side, her six eyes squinting in thought. “That’s easier than some crystals, isn’t it …”

“Probably. Let’s uh, go take a walk and check everything. I want to check on the miners anyway.” Despite her words, Avaron couldn’t help noticing how Tsugumi leered at her chest. The lingering heat there suddenly became that much more noticeable, and she covered her barely hidden breasts with her arm. “Neh!” she grunted out in dissuasion.

“You won’t escape that easily.”

Tsugumi’s _frightening_ talent to be scary when she wanted to do absolutely scared Avaron. She couldn’t help squeaking with a jump at that predatory smile, more afraid of what would happen to her tits than anything else. Four curling, air-groping hands reached toward her, and Avaron let out a chirp before running down the tunnel away from her. Tsugumi followed quickly, all-too-able to keep up with even scarier ease. Avaron’s playful tease turned into a deadass full on sprint, and the two of them raced through the smooth-plated hive tunnel.

At the least, all the lights they saw worked well! Avaron felt it was enough evidence to suggest all the lights sharing the same template were also working. It absolutely didn’t need any testing that would involve her trying to get past Tsugumi. Thankfully the miners were working closer to the surface entrance just past the waterfall-pipe! As she ran, however, a new sensation entered her mind—an unwanted feeling that set her hair straight up and her muscles tense. “Stop! Stop, stop,” Avaron growled out, gradually coming to a halt. A concerned Tsugumi soon stood next to her, looking with a wordless question.

_Down there?_ Avaron thought, looking with her eyes as much as her mind down the tunnel they just left. It was the deepest tunnel, a ‘main thoroughfare’, but the intruder wasn’t there. The large organic door she’d grown as a kind of airlock was still shut tight. Another sensation struck, one of alarm and fear—this time, from the young tentacles mining at the entrance. Her head whipped forward on pure instinct, fists clenching tight. “Something’s invading at the front!” she snapped out before breaking into a for-serious dead run.

Tsugumi rocketed past her in a vaunting sprint that looked more like controlled jumps. “I’ll take care of it!” she shouted, already far, far ahead and farther still.

It didn’t pass by her how much Tsugumi had been playing around before.

That thought had little room in Avaron’s worried mind, though.

Until she got there, she compelled the young tentacles to flee down the tunnel toward her. In the nascent senses she felt, eventually their group and Tsugumi’s distinct presence crossed paths, while Tsugumi went on ahead. The intruder yet pursued them, and they undoubtedly collided already. _Damn this, I can barely tell where they are, let alone what they’re doing!_ Avaron scowled. If this was the sort of alarm her Hive felt, it needed _dramatic_ improvement.

The clak-clak-clak of chitin-against-plate sounded from ahead. Two dozen of their young tentacles, all relatively about the size of a large dog, came barreling toward her. As water would part in front of a rock, they divided for Avaron to run straight through. In turn, they stopped in a group, panting and wheezing as they recovered from their frightening flee.

Shouts and surprised yells echoed from ahead before suddenly being cut off entirely. Soon rounding a corner, Avaron saw the mystery threat—an elvetahn plastered against the wall, bound by Tsugumi’s webbing. The spider woman stood pressed close to the intruder, a single thread of silk laying on their throat like a garrote wire. The nearer Avaron came, however, the more she recognized who it was after all.

_Nuala?_ she thought in great surprise, coming to a stop just in front of the scene. Robes, book, and all. The darker-skinned elvetahn and her white hair looked rather frayed, stuck to the wall as she was. Their eyes met in a passing recognition, her tell-tale irritation burying that fear in her amethyst-colored eyes.

“You! This is how you—nn, treat a guest?” Nuala growled out, ever mindful of the garrote pressing in.

“And I told you, your queen, and everyone else to stay out of this cave. Why are you snooping in here like a thief?”

“Where else am I to look when no one is in that disgusting shack you call a house?”

“Cute. Why are you here?” Avaron reaffirmed, her tone brokering _no_ digressions.

Nuala, in spite of her restraints, stuck her nose up. “Her majesty has assigned me to be your guard.”

“The best magi in this queendom and you get the short stick for guard duty?” Avaron confirmed with a dry taste to her voice. Nuala, for a brief moment, looked rather concern—a reaction someone in her position shouldn’t be having. “I can smell a rat better than anyone I know. Why are you here?”

Even if she was wrong about her suspicions, a little bit of careful pressure could reap wonders.

“Hm. You are smarter than you look.”

“It’s a real burden.”

Nuala rolled her eyes. “It is true I am here to guard you. I just happened to _volunteer_ to satisfy my own curiosity.”

“Curiosity is it?”

“Yes. Who are you? Where do you come from? And how do you know things not even my teachers couldn’t dream of?” Nuala’s gaze slid down the tunnel that Avaron just came out of. “And why, exactly, is the queen allowing a tentradom to nest here? With you sitting in front of its cave?”

_Its cave … wait._ Avaron’s cheeks puffed up from a barely-caught laugh. _This gal’s curiosity is a real problem for her, isn’t it?_ Shaking her head, she waved at Tsugumi to come back. “Ease up on her for now, Tsu.”

“She is dangerous,” Tsugumi said without missing a beat. “Are you certain?”

“Enough to risk all our lives on it. Besides, her queen will rip her spine and skull straight out of her body if she does anything.”

Two dubious faces looked at her.

“She’s that kind of woman.”

“… She is,” Nuala agreed tepidly.

A few tense moments passed before Tsugumi sighed, nodded, and pulled away from the wall. With a flourish of her hand, a burning light ripped its way across her silky threads. All that which bound Nuala burned away in a harmless flash, every last thread gone. The grand magi made a show of straightening her robes and pulling down her hood to fix her hair. It was, in the tunnel’s blisteringly clear light, Avaron got a good look at her.

The rough sharpness of her face softened somewhat—still angular, but not one cast in terrifying shadows. Her ears, curiously, had been pulled back into the hood. As soon as it fell down, they sprang out with an almost audible ‘boing’, wobbling for a moment before straightening out. Or, as much as they could; their great length made them droop at the ends, far more than other elvetahn. Nuala caught her gaze and with a repressed start, made to pull up her hood again.

“Ah, sorry,” Avaron said with a—hopefully—disarming smile. “Your ears look really lovely, it caught me off guard.”

Nuala froze, her brow creasing as if she had trouble understanding something. “Hm. Such a poor jest to make.”

“I’m not joking?” Avaron looked taken aback before scratching her head. “Suit yourself, but a hood won’t do much good down here.”

“… Perhaps.” In the end, Nuala left her hood down, and all her shoulder-length white hair spilled out. Unlike every other elvetahn, she did little to style it save rounding them up into a dozen, barely-woven braids. Satisfied at her state again, she set a hand on the big, black book hanging off her hip, tied to it as it was with a chain. “Now, which question will you answer first?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” Avaron asked, now actually joking much to Nuala’s straight-faced displeasure. Waving a hand to clear the bad air, she shook her head. “Ah, dull. My name is Avaron, and I won’t tell you where I’m from yet. As to what I know … well, stick around. Maybe you’ll figure it out.”

“… Stick around?”

“I was in the middle of something which you so rudely interrupted. Tsugumi, do watch her a little bit.”

“Of course.”

With that, she moved the many young tentacles deeper in the Hive back up to them. The familiar clak-clak-clak of their ‘footsteps’ sounded on the walls, and Nuala tensed. One hand on her book and the other near a pouch on her belt, her whole posture screamed ready to fight. “Ah, don’t do anything, they won’t bother you at all,” Avaron said reproachfully.

Nuala looked at her as if she was nuts.

“I’m quite serious. If you want to know something, then be a proper guest and behave.”

Whether or not she would, Avaron couldn’t tell.

The young tentacles soon reached them, walking at more sedate pace. As they neared their group, the plopped down on the floor, taking a break for what it was right then and there. Squinting her eyes, Avaron stepped over to one of them, its white-chitin covered in brown, black, and grays of all kinds. She wiped and wiped, knocking off dust, dirt, and sticky mud alike, her face creasing with annoyance. “Ah, damn, I’m such an idiot,” she grumbled under her breath. “Duh!”

“What is wrong?” Tsugumi asked, straddling the awkward position of guard and worried mother.

“Nothing bad just, basic stuff I completely overlooked. Come on, lets go look at the mining site.” Smacking her hands together and cleaning them, she stood up. Despite Nuala’s disbelieving looks, they and the tentacles managed to walk up the tunnel, closer to the surface. As they did, the air became thicker, dirtier, and clouded with dust. Avaron had to pull up her shirt over her nose, until a gust of wind blew in from behind her. She looked and saw Nuala, hand out stretched with a glowing symbol in her palm, apparently making wind.

“Now that’s a neat trick,” Avaron said with frank approval. Despite that, Nuala looked at her with something near contempt.

“It is not a _trick_.”

“Ah, right, sorry. Bad turn of phrase. Anyway!” Shoving right past that awkward moment, Avaron turned her attention to the mining site itself. The wall had ‘peeled’ open, the flesh underneath receding as the plates stacked up on either side of the entrance. One might liken it to the petals of a flower in a sense, or so it seemed to Avaron. The overhead light shined in deep, showing jagged strikes, broken rock, and mounds of knee-high dirt everywhere. That, and the air remain clouded heavily with debris, stagnant as it was.

“Yup. Shit.” Avaron clapped the palm of her hand to her forehead. “That is going to be annoying.”

“What?” Nuala and Tsugumi asked at once, and the two looked at each other dimly.

“Underground mining is a whole beast of a problem on its own. First there’s structural integrity, then there’s the atmosphere, then there’s moving all this debris out,” she said, counting them off one-by-one on her fingers. “And if you find ores or gems you gotta handle those, which is another set of problems. Hnnn …”

“What is ‘atmosphere’?” Nuala asked.

“Hm? Oh, the, well air. Specifically the air involved in a living world, which can contain a lot more things than just air.”

“Air is air, what else can it contain?”

“I can’t imagine you haven’t seen pollen or other junk in the air, right?”

“Of course I have,” Nuala said with some offense. “But that is simply plant produce and other debris.”

“Yes, but what about the gases?”

“… Gases?”

“The air we breathe—” Avaron gestured with a hand between her and Nuala, “—is made up of different gases. Too much of one, or not enough, and we’d choke to death. Plus, there are some gases that are utterly invisible, yet can suffocate a person if they walk into it.”

“Suffocate a person … as in, a weaponized gas like smoke?”

“No.” Avaron rubbed her temple for a moment. “It’s hard to explain without all the background knowledge. One such gas is _carbon monoxide,_ an invisible, tasteless, and odorless gas. There is almost no way to perceive it until you are already suffocating to death.”

“How is it made?”

“Normally as a byproduct of breathing and other things. Out in nature it’s impossible to find because the atmosphere disperses it so easily. Now, take a home, or an enclosed space like this—” Avaron waved around her head, pointing aimlessly, “—and suddenly it starts piling up. You can go to sleep one night and won’t wake up again.”

“That is … hm. I wonder,” Nuala trailed off, curling a hand under her chin and staring thoughtfully at the ground.

“What is it?”

“… Some years ago there was a string of infant deaths. We elvetahn rarely have children, and the mystery of how they died frightened us all. Despite looking over all their bodies, we never figured it out. They simply fell asleep and never woke up again.”

Avaron pursed her lips together. “If their homes were tightly closed spaces, monoxide poisoning would’ve built up far, far faster.”

“I do not think they were, but all the deaths happened in winter and stopped as soon as spring arrived.”

“Ah, fuck. I think I know why. Do you all burn firewood in your houses for heat?”

“Yes? The smoke is cleanly sent outside.”

“Yeah, but probably not the carbon monoxide. Let me guess, after the flames stop producing smoke, you shut the vents to keep the heat in?”

Each word drained the color on Nuala’s dark face until it seemed she saw a ghost. “Yes, we do,” she said, sounding beside herself.

“Yeah. As long as there is heat burning the wood, its producing carbon monoxide. Burn it long enough and in a tightly enclosed space, and that’s all you’re going to breathe in.”

“B-but surely not, or else we would’ve found out about it much sooner?!”

“Opening doors and windows can vent a room quickly. If all these kids started dying at once, then you all stopped doing something you had been previously. And children, much more than adults, are sensitive to these things,” Avaron said, waving off the conversation. “Anyway, looks like I’ll need to figure this out in the interim. Let’s get out of the tunnel for now, everyone.”

*~*

Nuala sat in the corner of the enclosure, staring at her book without really reading it. Avaron wasn’t certain to make of her, but for the time being she wasn’t terribly threatening. A dozen tentacles lounged around on the inside around them, sitting like dogs without anything to do, while the rest lounged around outside. With no compelling directive, their baser instincts left them in a passive, almost maintenance-like state. If they had no need to survive, they did almost nothing else.

While convenient, Avaron worried she’d have to be more hands-on to make the Hive function. _I could load up their idle instincts to do stuff but … a robot left on a job will keep doing the job forever. They’re not quite that perfect but I wonder._

Did she actually have to make everything from scratch, or could she co-opt it?

Like borrowing the mind of a dog or something …

But if she did that, would all that loaded up brain juice conflict with the Hive Mind?

Avaron rubbed her eyes. _It’s just one fucking problem after the next!_ she thought with utter exasperation.

“You …” Nuala’s sudden words drew Avaron’s attention. “How do you know all of this? These guns, this _carbon mo-no-side_ , the atmosphere—it is knowledge of a kind completely out of tune with this world.”

“This world.” Avaron echoed and smiled at Nuala’s suspicious eyes. “Let me just say, if you are bored with what you know, you haven’t spent enough time looking into anything. Hell, play with some copper wire and magnets, watch it spit out electricity.”

“… Electricity?”

“Ah, you might know it better as lightning—but it’s nowhere near that powerful.”

Nuala head bobbled like a doll for a moment. “You know how to make lightning with copper and this … magnet?”

“It’s not lightning!” Avaron refuted in her own self-defense. “It’s very, very weak. But, yes, learning that sort of thing opens up all kinds of possibilities.”

“Do you even comprehend what that means?” Nuala asked with utmost seriousness. “Lightning magic is amongst the most dangerous for any magi to attempt. Even a small focus could amount to an entire breakthrough in magical spells!”

The thought hadn’t even crossed Avaron’s mind in all honesty. Magic yet remained so utterly unknown to her she was thinking more along industrialization. Scratching her cheek sheepishly, she tried to hide her surprise with a thoughtful look. “’Could’ and ‘will’ are two different things. You’re welcome to try, I’m sure it’ll put your name down in history.”

Nuala recoiled at the idea, blinking most owlishly. “That—I—there’s nothing here for me to work with!” she refuted in an instant, much to Avaron’s surprise. “How am I to conduct such experiments?”

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” Avaron said wearily. “I’m not going anywhere. Either do the work at your own place or have the materials sent here. I don’t really care either way.”

Nuala seemed about to talk when Tsugumi returned, opening the enclosure’s rickety door. A diminutive sack hung from her hip, covered in dirt and leaves. “I think I found it, Avaron.”

Hearing her own name made Avaron’s neck prickle with such a delightful sensation. Tsugumi used it so rarely, and her wonderful voice just purred it out. Snapping herself back to attention, she smiled and nodded. “Did the youngling help?”

“Greatly. It … she?” Tsugumi paused, rather uncertain.

“She is fine, they’re all basically female too.”

“She found it like she knew where it was, yes.”

_Oh, good, abstract orders do work._ Avaron sighed with relief and waved Tsugumi over closer. _Not sure how much I can stack up commands but we’ll see._ The sack plopped down on the broken chest they used for a table. Ever so carefully, Avaron untied the cord and pulled it open, unveiling the wondrous little plant within. A single, thick stalk connected it to many spindly roots, while its turquoise leaves twitched and swayed. Little dots of red and blue covered each leaf, like droplets of paint. At the top of it awaited a glass-like bulb, translucent petals curled around a spindly, cord-like heart. Avaron couldn’t help marveling at its looks, a rather exotic specimen by all accounts.

“Ngh!” An excited, angry grunt from the side drew both their attentions. Nuala, otherwise reserved and condescending, looked damn near ready to explode. “W-where, where did you get that?!” she asked, somewhere between loud and hoarse with the raw exertion she spoke with.

“Calm down, it’s just a flower,” Avaron said, knowing full well how much it’d set her off.

Nuala’s eye started twitching violently.

_I wonder if she’s related to Efval?_ Avaron mused.

“Just a flower—a _Caged Sun_ , a mere flower! This—this is among the rarest of botanical ingredients in alchemy! Lady Aleesa would pay a queen’s ransom for just one of them!”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind if I need cash at some point.”

“… What are you going to use it for?” Tsugumi asked, hovering above Avaron rather curiously.

“Ah, that.” Avaron smirked, her idle experiment seeming to become a lot more entertaining. “I have a neat trick one of my skills has given me. Here, watch.”

The two of them did in fact watch with rapt attention. Avaron carefully picked up the plant and over a few minutes, washed its roots clean of all the dirt it was in. Checking it over once for any unwanted bugs or otherwise, it did give her a chance to admire its beauty. _No time like the present,_ she thought, folding up the leaves closer to the stem. The glass-like bulb bulged and warped under her hand, folding in like a deflating balloon. Compressed down into a more reasonable size, she up and took her first bite, swallowing the whole bulb in a big gulp.

_Oh this is weird, it’s like one of those … Not cotton candy but it has that airy texture …_

Crunch, slurp, snap and crack, piece by piece she chewed and ate the ‘Caged Sun’.

Nuala stood nearby, her face stuck somewhere between awesome amazement and utter horror. Hers was the look of someone experiencing something profound in their otherwise incredible life.

Tsugumi just looked bemused at the whole process.

Bulb-to-roots, Avaron ate it all in about a minute. She rinsed the leftovers down with some water, a gaseous blech coming out rather suddenly. “Oh, excuse me.”

The magi had checked out of reality for a moment, it seemed.

“Why did you eat it?” Tsugumi asked, smiling the polite smile of someone utterly uncertain.

“Mmm, ding, done absorbing it!” Avaron said, clapping her own hands in congratulation. “One of my skills allows me to absorb other skills from things I consume. That’s not how it works exactly, but you get the idea.”

“… That plant had a skill to absorb?”

“Kind of. It’s not a skill as recognized by the goddesses—more like a natural talent.”

“And you have it now?”

“At the moment it’s in my head, but I can’t use it yet. But what I can do is give the skill to the Hive.”

Tsugumi looked as if a realization came over her, and she perked up immediately. “Oh! I see. What will it do?”

“Solve that air filtration problem.” Avaron tapped her skull. “Tahn’s advice paid off here, he knew a wonderful plant that’ll do a lot of work for us.” She really hadn’t a clue how to explain genetics, splicing together genomes, and constructing life at such a basic level. It might’ve been high school science class for her but the world didn’t even know what microbiology was. Forget smaller stuff like DNA, RNA, or atomic particles. Nonetheless, it’d take her a little bit to build up something usable. “Thanks for going out and getting it.”

Tsugumi smiled, her hands fiddling together. “I am glad it was what you wanted.”

Ah, the air of someone expectant of something. Avaron reached up and patted her on the head with a smile.

However, that was the wrong response.

Despite her easy-going smile, Tsugumi’s eyes became dangerous. “As it happens to be, Gwyneth did leave me under an impression.”

Avaron froze, her shifty, sideways glancing eyes betraying her uncertainty. “What sort of impression?”

“That your needs would be, mmm, greater, than they have been.”

_My needs … oh. Oh, that._ She’d rather mercifully been able to put that out of mind for a while. Avaron took her hand back and coughed into her, looking rather caught. “The creation of the Hive took a lot out of me,” she muttered under her breath. “A lot, quite literally.”

“Oh really?”

“B-but it’s been getting better!” Avaron said hurriedly at seeing Tsugumi’s smile widen.

“Somehow I do not see how that precludes me.”

“I … oh. I—” Avaron, realizing all too late what was being said, hung her head. “Yes, dear.”

“Do not speak as if I am somehow a demon.”

“It’s not that! Just, well, everything else that’s been going on. I honestly forgot, but I won’t again.”

Tsugumi sighed, the sound thankfully not that angry. She rubbed her two of her temples with one hand, looking at Avaron rather amusedly. “It is not as if I expect it regularly … well, that is rather …”

Ah, even the impeccable inn hostess could jumble up. Avaron smirked, seeing the opportunity for what it was. “That being said, wouldn’t you want a proper roof over your head and a nice bed for it?”

“What in the world are you two talking about?” Nuala interjected with a question, making the two of them jump. “What does it have to do with eating a _CAGED SUN?_ ”

_Saved by the idiot,_ Avaron thought, both she and Tsugumi looking over rather annoyed. “Stick around, miss magi. You might learn something.”

Nuala’s face soured instantly, and with a dismissive grunt, left the enclosure.

“… Is it wise to anger her?”

“She is a victim of her own curiosity. As admirable as it is, there is a point one needs to learn restraint.”

“It is hard to imagine lecturing such an experienced elvetahn,” Tsugumi remarked dryly.

“Age is a number; wisdom, something completely different.”

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Interested Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) -- Curious Magi


	18. Legwork

_Fundamentals are the difference between talent and hard work._

*~*

Standing at the entrance of the inn-to-be, Avaron looked around. “So they brought enough to lay the foundations but they need another round-trip?”

“It appears so!” Tsugumi shouted back, walking around in the interior frame. The elvetahn workers had dug out the ground, used their magic to ‘fortify’ it, and then laid a series of wooden slabs as its imminent foundation. Then, a series of twisting trees, cut wooden boards, and stone reinforcement formed the actual framework of the inn. Based on skeleton alone, Avaron felt it was already completely different from Tsugumi’s prior establishment. Her mate, however, seemed pleased. Like a manager walking in at an on-site job, Tsugumi spared no effort in examining every piece her eyes could find. The structure work was good enough she spent more time talking to herself about what room would do what.

“Do you really want a hundred guests exactly?”

“I worked in a larger _hotel_ at a big city, once,” Tsugumi said, walking by Avaron to size up another room. “Despite its big name and popularity, it never filled five hundred people worth of rooms. Now, competitor much further away—one hundred rooms, always booked, always charging higher prices! Prices go too high, lower them down.”

“It’d be easier to change pricing than to build or remove rooms,” Avaron observed.

“Yes, exactly. Now, one hundred rooms very big for being out here—I’m not sure it will fill. But, if it doesn’t, more room for us to put things away.”

Pragmatic in a sense that Avaron could appreciate. Tsugumi knew her business well enough she trusted her judgement on the matter. “But there’s still the problem of the hot spring, isn’t there?”

The fluttering tora paused, her six eyes squinting irritably. “Yes. My prior inn had a natural spring. This one—” she pointed absently at the river, where farther ahead they could somewhat make out the cave entrance, “—cold. I could use wood to heat up the water but … very expensive.”

Avaron folded her arms together and frowned, not entirely certain how to address such a problem. _It’s not like there’s gas generators, or like a heat pipe system to move heat around …_ Tilting her from one side to the other, an outlandish idea did come to mind. “What about magic? Like some sort of fire crystal or …”

Tsugumi giggled, the sound of someone earnestly surprised. “Nooo, no! Much too expensive. I could buy castles worth of wood for that.”

“Well apparently that _Caged Sun_ is valuable,” Avaron remarked with a roll of her eyes. “We could trade a few for some.”

_That_ did make Tsugumi pause, her face creasing with a serious thoughtfulness. “We could,” she echoed, her finger tips tapping together.

“Although I don’t know how many we’ll actually find, I can probably grow a few.”

“… Grow?” Tsugumi asked, looking around a support beam at her.

“I have to start farming at some point,” Avaron said flippantly, waving her hand back and forth. “Although it’s a really temperamental plant. Like, very fussy, I’m surprise it can grow at all.”

“Maybe that is why it is so rare?”

“Seems that way.” Her understanding of genetics painted something of a picture, but obviously not a complete one. The flower—Caged Sun, although that sounded ostentatious—was a victim of extreme over specialization. It needed a very particular soil mixture, then a high amount of indirect light as direct would incinerate it, and a gaseous, toxic air. Based on what her tentacle drone saw, it had grown amongst a bunch of putrid, awful-as-fuck pitcher plants filled with rotting insects underneath a big tree. Once it had all that, the damn thing sucked up the air and spat out pure oxygen as a byproduct of creating magic.

_Although if I end up farming them I wonder if they’ll have the right qualities an alchemist would want? Natural grown specimens have their strengths until you can grow them well enough._ Well, she’d find out either way. The Hive needed an air filtration system, and no one plant would be ideal for it. The Caged Sun at least made for a great start.

Reaching over head in a big stretch, Avaron yawned. “When did they say they’ll be back to finish this?”

“A few weeks.”

Avaron blinked, staring up at the big trees overhead, the sun dancing between their swaying leaves. Her big tenty would be back way, way before then and she couldn’t just leave Tsugumi hanging out dry. That and she did rather want to have her little spider snuggle-fuck now that she wasn’t so focused on working problems again. _Ah, damn, this reminds me of college,_ she thought with pursed lips. _Such a pain in the ass finding a good place … unless …_ Her eyes drifted toward the river, and the cave at the far end.

_… Hmmm._

*~*

The rattle of the cart ever jostled and jolted her, shaking her bones and clattering her teeth. Gwyneth could find no peace of mind on the rough road, far rougher than she’d anticipated. Naught else to do but to bear it all, unless she decided to start walking around. The sound of clopping hooves and rattling cargo is all she had for company, cramped and packed in as she was. In spite of it all, Gwyneth ever did try to meditate and find her center, rattled as it was from an entirely different sort of problem.

Her very own order couldn’t be trusted with a decree from the Flame.

What was the point then, coming together if not to heed its commands?

Try as she might over the days in leaving Shadowpeak, no answer could be found. The Flame ever remained atop her bosom, silent and content to wait. The quandary, thus, fell to her and her alone.

_Perhaps mine task is mine alone,_ she mused with a frown. _If the others will not heed mine words, then tis mine responsibility._

In the end, perhaps the Flame would give unto them their own paths to its purposes, and this was hers.

Despite how reasonable it sounded, something yet remained off-key. The Flame ever directed them as a whole, and left them to discern amongst themselves how to handle a task. To offer her one purpose and the others something else was … different. Unusual. Atypical. For all she knew, it did not fit at all.

Then either the Flame had changed, or she alone now bore the weight of all its divine attention.

Neither left Gwyneth at ease in her heart.

Nor did the pain in her butt from such an awful ride help, for that matter.

Gwyneth ever persevered.

Minutest turned to hours, and the sun had left noon but yet to reach dusk when the wagon suddenly halted. The neighing of horses and surprised shouting of people woke her up as much smacking into the cargo did. More than all that, the raw, murderous intent weighing upon her senses spoke of a great danger most suddenly bearing down. Gwyneth clutched her hands to her chest, grasping the Flame yet sitting there. “Great Fire, that mine soul kindles, and mine flesh entreats, giveth light to cast out dark, and strength to slay that which mine eyes see!” she muttered in a feverous, yet controlled chant.

The little Flame crackled and popped, tendrils of fire and light alike slipping between her fingers. With it followed lines of burning heat in Gwyneth’s hands, traveling through her veins like worms into her arms. Disappearing into the sleeves of her robes, the power yet worked, filling her with the blistering comfort of the Flame, and the holy strength that infused her body. So it received her prayer and deigned to give her what she needed, now Gwyneth would fear no evil before her.

She strode forth, boot-against-wood in the wagon, throwing open the tarp that covered the rear entrance. The sounds of battle reached her all the clearer, swords against flesh, the screaming of humans and the cackling snarls of evil beings. Twas not bandits this day, but a different scourge from the bottomless well that was evil.

Gwyneth saw them as she always did such beings—twisting shadows, brimming with their foul life, ever at beyond the small radius that the Flame’s light touched. She knew them to be _kagr_ , fetid creatures half the size of man, foulest of dark denizens who scamper in sewers and caves. In between them danced the figures of people, desperate to survive. It mattered not it was midday or the heat of the sun came from high above, such things like ‘day’ and ‘night’ never existed in her world. She only ever saw the _truth_.

One such person squared up against two kagr, wielding crooked spears as they were. His dagger and miniscule round shield betrayed him as a caravan worker than a guard, who seemed busier fighting more elsewhere. Gwyneth held up a hand, her fingers trembled as they spread apart. In between them arose sparking crackles and cinders, a tiny ball of flame snarling to life in her palm. She crushed it in her fist, the flame spitting out both ends like a spear. Rearing her arm back, she focused all of her onto the kagr, staring with utmost concentration.

“Oh, mine blessed spears,” she muttered, stepping forward in a lunging throw. “STRIKE!”

A single spear flew out, but split apart in the air. The [Spears of Incineration] screamed through the air, slamming into the chests of the kagr attackers. Such was its force they went sailing back several feet, pinned to the ground by the very fire now consuming them from the inside-out. Their wretched screams howled louder than all others, stunning the battle for just a moment.

The feeling of many eyes falling on her came, but Gwyneth stood tall, another flaming ball forming in her hand. “By the Flame!” she shouted, her demure voice gone beneath a scalding hot conviction. “Thy wretch be kindling! Burn all to ash and cinder!”

“Is that a Flame Priestess?”

“A priestess is here!”

“Men, the Flame is on our side today!”

All sorts of rallying cheers and enthusiastic cries filled the air. For many of the caravan, undoubtedly born or raised in Shadowpeak, her presence alone bolstered their shaken morale. Gwyneth spared no moment to enjoy such reverent respect; her gaze set upon another pair of kagr farther afield. They stood barely at the edge of her range, but the edge was not ‘out of reach’.

Another [Spears of Incineration] sailed across the grassy and rock-strewn earth, skewering two more monsters to the earth. If the kagr had any inclination on who to go for, many of them quite suddenly turned toward Gwyneth. The priestess moved herself away from the wagons, offering herself as a tempting target. Some of the caravan guard sped toward her, forming a loose line between her and the bulk of the kagr running with crappy spears, swords, and shields alike.

Despite their fury, the kagr had enough sense to not wade into melee recklessly. They jockeyed and probed at the front line, their shorter spears having trouble with the caravan’s normal sized swordsmen. All the while, Gwyneth had the luxury of free reign to spear any enemy she saw, cutting their numbers by two or three every time she hurled. Despite all of it, however, the kagr kept fighting, even as their ranks fell from dozens to single digits. The last few pockets died unceremoniously on the other side of the caravan, cut down where they were.

“We—we did it!” One of the guards shouted, much to his fellows’ agreeing cries.

Gwyneth frowned, something _off_ on her senses. Although the kagr lay dead, she couldn’t help looking around, feeling with magic what eyes couldn’t provide. As she did so, a guard standing nearby asked, “What is it, priestess?”

The others who heard him quieted down, noticing as he did Gwyneth’s unease.

In the split moments of concentration, Gwyneth felt the difference she needed. A subtle flow, indicating a direction toward them. She held a hand up and shouted, “Tis not finished yet!”

Everyone else shut up rather quick, squaring up as they formed ranks again.

The minutes passed, their ears catching the sounds of something crashing through the trees. Gwyneth looked to the thicket off to the side of the caravan, across the small, mostly clear ground. The snarling sounds of kagr soon followed, then they appeared, running through the trees and toward them. As a dozen cleared the forest, the trees behind them bowed, shoved aside by an immense hulk of gray flesh and rippling muscle. Gwyneth could hardly believe how such a creature existed, oozing the same vileness of a kagr, but no such creature existed. Not even kagr kings were of such size; what in the world was it? Two arms, two legs, a distorted muzzle of a mouth filled with crooked teeth, and a body misshapen by the great strength it showed in every motion.

“What is _that?_ ” the guard near her asked, as much as exclaimed, with horror in his voice.

“Mine spears will pierce it!” Gwyneth shouted, even if she wasn’t utterly certain. “Take care of the little ones!”

“R-right!” he and a few others shouted back.

No moment to spare, their enemies did not stop to survey the battle. Like beasts they barreled forward, filled with rage Gywneth had no idea where from. Pulling on the great fire within her, another orb crackled to life, only to be crushed into a flaming spear. “Begone, foul one!” she screamed, lunging forward and hurtling another [Spears of Incineration]. Three flaming bolts flew out, one toward the abomination’s head, the other two to its chest. To her terrible surprise, it lifted a hand, guarding its head from a bolt by sacrificing its forearm.

All three sank into its flesh, eating away but it neither roared nor halted, taking the blows without faltering.

How terrible was it, to let its own flesh burn to blackened, crumbling ash, and yet not even feel it?

_An undead?_ Gwyneth marveled in twisted wonder, yet her heart spoked differently. The rot of death was inescapable, but none could be felt here. What living being could resist fire so? She shoved the thought from mind, raising her other hand, and hurtling another [Spears of Incineration]. Three more spears impaled it, eating at its flesh with all-consuming fire.

Yet still it lumbered forth.

“D-dodge, dodge!” Gwyneth shouted, already moving out of the way. She and the guards all scattered, but some could only move so far. Kagr and guard alike were barreled into and knocked aside by the giant, trundling toward one of the wagons. With a loud, groaning exhale, it crashed through, ripping through its center as a knife through paper. Wood, goods, cloth and all ripped and broke open, spraying all around as it continued past.

A gargling snarl caught Gwyneth’s ear, amongst the screams of pain and rallying words of guards. Three kagr closed in, far too fast and close for her to spear. Gritting her teeth, Gwyneth pulled up the fire within, moving it from her arms and up her chest, into her throat. “Thou shalt NOT!” she yelled, all the flame spewing out as a mighty stream. The kagr let out squeals of surprise before the flamethrower blasted over them, drenching them head-to-toe in magic fire.

How merciful it was, to be consumed by it so fast they hadn’t a chance for pain to make them scream.

Gwyneth coughed and sputtered; the escaping fire harshly leaving. She stumbled for a moment, her very human senses rattled by such a quick and brutal show of magic. It did well in frightening the other kagr, who seemed uncertain of how to actually attack her. Such indecision gave the guards their openings, cutting down more of the attackers. So the battle went—the kagr fierce and screaming, but for as few good attacks they got in, many more of them fell.

The lumbering giant craned around, looking back upon them all with its beady, empty eyes. The spears continued to eat away at it, its very hand that blocked one now a worthless, curled in black stump. One earth-thumping step after another it moved back, brushing through the destroyed wagon like a man who walked through grass. Gwyneth marveled at the sight, her mind racing with adrenaline.

_Mine flames burn but too slow! And mine strength is only so much more_ , she thought with clenched teeth. The greatest of magic she knew commanded the steepest of prices. If she had known so many would appear, she wouldn’t have so hastily crushed them.

“Priestess,” a new, feminine voice said from beside her.

Gwyneth looked over, utterly bewildered at the surprisingly _empty_ spot beside her. A woman in form hugging cloth, shrouded by its purple sheen and dark, almost black-polished iron armor, kneeled near her. Much of her remain hidden, only two crimson, gem-like eyes peeking through her facial wrappings. “W-who art thou?” Gwyneth stammered, her heart thundering with renewed fear.

“Allow me to help,” the stranger said. “I shall turn the giant around. Can you throw more of those flaming spears into its spine?”

Spears to the spine would certainly do the job. Gwyneth nodded. “Only once more.”

“Strike true.” The stranger stood and broke into a run all in a single, fluid motion. Arms to the side in a most strange way, she ran through the fighting, hardly anyone who noticed her having time to do anything. Gwyneth watched with amazement as the woman reached the side of the giant, then _vaulted up_ its towering, tree-tall body. Scaling it with disbelieving ease, she reached the head, and pulled out the oddest sword. It reminded her more of a knife, just a straight-cut blade attached to a simple rod of a handle.

Rearing it up, she struck down, ramming the sword straight through the giant’s eye socket. Such a deep blow must’ve surely reached its brain? Was that not enough to kill? The black-garbed woman wrenched the sword, jerking the giants head to the side. With but a simple blade she guided it into a turn, showing its back to Gwyneth.

_Ridiculous!_ The priestess thought, astonished. Nonetheless, she moved the fire once more, bringing it to her arms and letting the flaming spears take shape once again. One final, exhaustive hurl with a great throw of her arm, the spears crashing into the giant’s spinal cord as a tight, close group. It stumbled forward, one leg catching it, but the other slipping as if it had gone limp. A gasping, exhaling groan followed its descent, slamming face-first into the earth with a leg-weakening tremor.

Almost falling butt first down, Gwyneth caught herself as a plume of dirt and dust blasted out everywhere. Though the battle may be stunned, the screams of kagr and guard alike continued. She saw through the debris with ease, watching the guards triumphantly cut down score after score. At seeing their presumed leader fall, many of the kagr turned tail, fleeing with such haste some tripped and fell.

A presence menaced from behind.

She turned and beheld a single kagr, leering at her with an unsavory salaciousness in its violent aura. It pointed a crooked spear at her, giggling and gargling with its sick-twisted laugh. Sparing not a moment it ran at her, spear at the ready. Gwyneth met it in full, staring down the kagr in its mad dash. A spear was a spear, despite its ramshackle and worthless appearance.

In making for a deadly thrust at her, Gwyneth dodged, sliding back in a diagonal angle with a quick slide of her feet. The kagr blinked and gurgled confusedly, but it too was already rearing itself back. The moments in between, however, saw Gwyneth sliding forward. She grabbed the spear just past the blade, yanking hard and sending the kagr lurching forward. Caught off balance, it had no time to stop her other hand from grabbing its throat with a murderously powerful grip. Its choked squeal accompanied its frantic clawing at her arm, trying to shove, slash, or crush it!

“Give in death what thou could not in life,” Gwyneth spoke, utmost warmth in her voice. At the same time, the flame in her throat-gripping hand poured forth. The kagr thrashed and twisted, its putrid, filthy flesh disappearing in a haze of fiery orange light and black ash. As a tree would succumb, the flame spread through its roots, consuming all in a rapid, blazing pyre. Gwyneth feared not, for the Flame would not harm her in spite of its greatness.

Straightening up, the half-burned corpse of the kagr hung from her hands. Skin, blood, flesh and bone; it all crumbled away, ashes to the floor, cinders and smoke carried by the gentle wind. Gwyneth looked around, and found the battle won in earnest this time. Those who yet remained fighting had assured kills, and so had no need of her. The giant, still alive as it was somehow, could do nothing more but flail uselessly as it too burned away.

_What art thou?_ she wondered, lips pursed together tightly. Everything about the creature struck her as _wrong,_ in spite of its still living state. More importantly, as Gwyneth looked around, that mysterious black-clad stranger was already gone. Given how little presence she had to begin with, Gwyneth sincerely doubted she had any ability to detect her.

That, too, was a disturbing question she couldn’t answer.

To hide from the Flame was to hide from the eyes of divinity.

It was not a simple matter.

“P-priestess!” one of the guards nearby shouted, waving her over. “We have wounded, if it is no trouble!”

“Tis not!” Gwyneth shouted back. In stepping toward him, she let go of the fist full of ashes in her hand; all that remained of the kagr. “Gather thy wounded, and have the able gather the bodies!”

*~*

By the time night arrived, the caravan had made comfortable distance from the sight of battle. Now more out of the forest, the watch could keep an eye out for quite a distance. The bemoaning tirade of the merchants punctuated their little circle around the camp fire, trying to recalculate profits and losses after a whole wagon was destroyed. After excusing herself, Gwyneth finally found some peace a bit farther from camp, near the edge where some guards were sitting.

Sipping at the mead in her mug, the warm, flavorful drink did well to soothe her nerves. Try as she might, nothing Gwyneth knew told her of what or where the giant creature from earlier should’ve come from. Asking around the camp revealed everyone else being just as confused. Legends were one matter; its eerie, distorted similarity to kagr made it stand far apart from them.

Gwyneth tapped her fingers on the thick mug, ever troubled but unable to answer it.

“Priestess.”

_That_ woman’s voice from behind made Gwyneth’s soul damn near jump out of her body. Turning with a jolt, she regarded the void where that black-clothed woman kneeled, reverently respectable for some reason. “Thou …” Gwyneth started, rather uncertain what to say. “Thou rather hath me at a disadvantage. What is thy name?”

“I am called Kagura.”

“Mine name be Gwyneth. What is thy desires?”

“Forgive my impertinence, I have a task of utmost import. You arrived in Shadowpeak with a white-skinned woman, and a harraxin by the name of Nerg?”

A sinking feeling sucked all the warmth in her chest away, and Gwyneth regarded the stranger with utmost suspicion. “Mayhaps. Why does thou need to know?”

“Please, do not be alarmed. I mean no ill,” Kagura said, bowing her head. “If I may, I will explain.”

“… Well, verily.”

Kagura shifted from kneeling to sitting down cross-legged. “I was assigned to Shadowpeak to watch for the arrival of any heroines. In doing so, my mission was to make contact and convey the words of my Lord.” For what of her face could be seen through her wrappings, she frowned. “To my dismay, before I could, one of them was killed by your order. Or, so I thought.”

“Y-you mean she is alive?” Gwyneth stammered out, trying to ‘act’ surprised.

“Their body was taken away by another, who fled into the mountains. I could not follow their trail, but I believe they must be alive still, if wounded.”

“Why is that?”

“Heroines do not die easy, if the legends are to be believed.”

“Be that as it may,” Gwyneth said, feeling rather uncomfortable. “What doth thou want from me?”

“I believe you to know their whereabouts. I must implore your help in arranging a meeting between me and them.”

Whether or not she meant to deceive, Gwyneth couldn’t tell. The woman’s sheer lack of presence made any judgements on her basically impossible. “Thy request is no simple matter, especially when thy intentions yet remain mysterious.”

“Your caution is … admirable,” Kagura said with a begrudging nod. “I have nothing to offer in trust, save only Lord Honda wishes to work with the heroines.”

Honda, the supreme ruler of the far lands of Kitinchi beyond the Alva Forest. Although she knew little of their lands, his name and them were synonymous as the longest, and grandest, of rulers. A century ago he’d shut their borders in their entirety, forbidding any from leaving or entering. _That_ Lord Honda wanted to speak with Avaron?

What in the world?

Could it be a trick?

If it was, it certainly stood out much too obviously.

Gwyneth chewed her lower lip.

“In truth, mine companion was not clear if mine heroine survived,” Gwyneth said carefully. “I left to find out in certainty. If thou wish, accompany me but I cannot promise thy desire will be filled.”

Kagura, after a moment, nodded solemnly. “Death, too, is something I must report to my Lord. I thank the Priestess for allowing my unreasonably selfish request.”

“… Thy talent with the monster certainly helped well. Oh!” Gwyneth sat upright. “Verily, doth thou know of that creature?”

To her dismay, Kagura shook her head. “I do not. Such a disturbing sight caught me unaware. It is not normal in these lands?”

Gwyneth, like her, shook her head. “No. As well-traveled as I have been, I have not heard of anything like it. Tis a foreboding omen, to be sure.”

“… My Lord will be interested in this too.” Bowing her head down, Kagura then said, “I shall help you as I can for the time being, Priestess Gwyneth.”

“Thank thee, fair Kagura.”

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Interested Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) -- Curious Magi


	19. Second Times the Charm

_Success is born from the corpse of failure._

*~*

_This is turning out rather well,_ Avaron thought, her eyes squinting. _Too well._ For how much some errant detail kept cropping up to bite her, she just _wanted_ to know what it’d be this time. Especially, given everything, she rushed along quite a few parts of the project.

_Lights?_ She looked up, seeing the gentler ceiling crystals glowing in the hive-plated ceiling. Unlike the rectangular slabs out in the tunnels, Avaron tried a bit fancier swirling, circular lines in nice symmetrical patterns. _Table and chair?_ From where she stood at the entrance, an oval table and six chairs awaited off on the left. While the table was quite literally grown out of the floor, the chairs were elvetahn, fancy patterns, wood, and all.

Just beyond them, built into the wall itself, was a kind of water tank. A clearer, semi-transparent crystal showed the bubbly blue waters quite clearly. Different fleshy tendrils lined the bottom and top of the tank, functioning as the input and output for the rest of the hive growth to use. A rudimentary faucet—which she tested herself—worked for one to fill their cups from.

_Shelves? I mean, kind of hard to fuck that one up,_ Avaron mused, glancing to the right and the shelf filled-wall, empty of any real content. Scratching her temple, she stepped into the ‘bedroom’, her gaze upon the bed that waited ahead. A small recess in the floor functioned as a gutter around the bed ‘frame’. Chitinous plating formed a snuggly protection around the much softer, pliable dark-blue flesh on the inside that was the ‘mattress’. Tiny, ridiculously tiny and fine hairs thick enough to form a layer of fur covered the mattress. Avaron ran her hand through them, their unreal softness almost like a cloud between her fingers. _And this is okay too … I’m a bit worried they bruise easily, but …_

She gave the flesh mattress a few hearty smacks, and it took them without complaint or damage. The fur bowed under the blow, but a few seconds of rest and they perked up again normally. “Hm! Hm, hm.” Nodding with a surprised if satisfied face, Avaron backed away. “Well, this close to the surface I can’t imagine air flow will be a problem toooooo much …”

It wasn’t like she knew for certain the specifics, but it never hurt to be careful.

Looking up, down, left and right, Avaron still felt something was off. _I’m not one for interior decorating but ehhh …_ Nothing else stood out in her mind, and she wasn’t going to stand around fussing any longer. Heading to the great ‘door’ that functioned as an airlock, Avaron stood in front of its spiral-like interlocking plates. It opened with a sucking slurp of muscles contracting and hydraulic fluids decompressing. The blue flesh wriggled and the plates shook, then altogether pulled open in their uneven, wholly organic way.

Avaron, scratching her head and her eyes shut in thought, walked on forward.

“Ah?”

The womanly exclamation sent her jumping backward like a cat splashed with water. Good that she did, Tsugumi was on the other side of the door, carrying a pot in her hands with two bowls delicately balanced on top. The two stared at each other bemusedly for a moment.

“Hi?” Avaron said confusedly.

Tsugumi lifted up the pot a little. “Dinner.”

“Oh. Well. Perfect timing, I guess. Come on in.” Avaron bowed out of the way, gesturing to the room’s sole table. Tsugumi wasted no time in heading over, setting down the pot with a relived sigh, and then setting the dishes. Compelling the door shut behind her, the sluuurp of flesh came as the spiral clawed itself closed once more. “What’s for dinner?”

“Mm, meat stew with mushrooms, onions, carrots …” Tsugumi counted off absently. “I thought the children found wheat, but it was … not very good.”

“Ah, to make dough?”

Tsugumi nodded.

“Well, we can ask the elvetahn for some. Can’t imagine they don’t have wheat for bread at all.”

“Mm. I’d like to make more, but I need a real kitchen to work in.”

Her cute grumbling did tug at Avaron’s heart a little bit. Walking up behind her smaller mate, she laid her hands on Tsugumi’s shoulders, much to her confused look. “Now, errr … Pretty sure this works on your shoulders?” Avaron’s bold beginning turned to a slow, careful moving her hands. Tiny circles, squeezes with the fingers, and pressing in with the thumb, all to massage Tsugumi’s shoulders. A pleased, tiny _‘oh’_ came out of the inn hostess, her shoulders rolling into Avaron’s hands. “Pret-ty sure …”

“Why would it not?” Tsugumi asked with a tinge of sarcasm.

“You know, two sets of shoulder blades,” Avaron remarked, eying Tsugumi’s back where her lower arms were. “Not too sure what to do there yet.”

“Mmph. Don’t stop up there, at least …”

Such a simple thing to do. Avaron moved her hands across the length of Tsugumi’s shoulders, pressing in with her thumbs strongly, while at the same time ‘pinching’ with her fingers. A very, very basic massage, but it always did so much on its own. A few rounds of going up and down her shoulders and Avaron heard—as much as felt—Tsugumi’s neck pop when she stretched it.

“Oh! Ooh,” the spider woman moaned with surprise, shaking her four hands to work them out. “I have not had that in a while.”

“Mm starting to think I should do this more,” Avaron remarked lightly.

“I would not complain …”

The _sly_ enthusiasm made Avaron giggle and slide her hands down Tsugumi’s sides. Thin cloth covered her chitinous hips and their lovely, birthing-friendly flair. A tiny hint of her perky butt teased her fingers, the barest edges tempting her to grab them tightly. Looping them to the front, she pulled the smaller woman into close, smirking at her surprised gasp. “Good news then, my dear _mate_. It might not be much but here is our own personal bedroom,” Avaron said, turning Tsugumi from facing the table to facing the bed. “Where we can sleep together _every night_ and I can do my _tentacly duties_ …”

“Tentacly?” Tsugumi echoed with an amused, airy tone. “My, I wonder what that entails?”

“Night approaches and I can’t imagine there’s anything left to do …”

“Mm, Nuala might need to be put to bed,” Tsugumi remarked lightly.

“Pffffhtphptt,” Avaron blew a raspberry, choking back the laugh that almost got out. “She’s old enough to do it herself!”

Tsugumi laughed too, pushing her head back into Avaron’s shoulder. Her butt pushed into Avaron’s crotch, grating with an up and downward force in a slow, inviting dance. “Then I think there is nothing else,” she said airily, her two lower hands reaching backward to grab Avaron’s hips. “Nothing at ALL!”

Her raw confidence disappeared when Avaron reached up, grabbing her plump, milk-filled tits. Tsugumi let out a stuttering, pleased exhale, her whole body perking up tight and hard against Avaron. She, like Avaron, wore a thinner elvetahn dress, and it did little to shield her chest from those probing, groping fingers. A small, tiny barrier kept them apart, but not the _power_ of Avaron’s grope. Leaning in, she nuzzled where Tsugumi’s ear was, buried in her short hair. “Let’s enjoy dinner together, then, hm?” Avaron whispered and smiled at the tiny coo she heard in Tsugumi’s throat.

In pulling away and walking to the table, she made sure to show off her gloating face. For once, Tsugumi seemed out of words, only able to offer up a faux-angry look and a crossing of her arms. Avaron, content with her utter victory there, sat down with a big smile at the table. Tsugumi pulled up a chair beside her, glowering with a hot blush and wide, saucer-sized pupils. With an undignified ‘hmph!’ she opened the cook pot and started spooning out the stew into their bowls.

Her salacious teasing aside, Avaron couldn’t help noticing all the more ingredients present. “Huh, they really helped out, didn’t they?”

“They did,” Tsugumi answered with a nod. “I had to make them web pouches to carry everything, but they learned well.”

It sounded so simple and yet Avaron found the idea rather odd. _Other people can teach the Hive? Or, did they learn from her because she’s, well, a brood mother?_ A tightening of security would be needed so none of her own decided to listen to others without reason. _Something like a security access list would be best … somehow._

Ah, there it was, that one thing that always came up. Now she could only wait for the second.

Their actual eating passed in silence, punctuated by slurping and chewing of larger, chunkier pieces. Half-way down her bowl, Avaron took a break, getting up to go over to the wall’s water tank. Tsugumi watched with utmost interest, her six eyes all locked onto Avaron’s backside. In a tiny shelf beneath the tank’s only faucet, small plate-grown cups waited, and so Avaron got her water.

“You’re drinking from there?” Tsugumi asked, her heated gaze broken by confusion.

“Hm? Oh, this.” Avaron patted the semi-transparent crystal ‘glass’ with her free hand. “Yup, water tank. Pumped straight from the river, cleaned by the Hive, and stored here. It’s important to drink up, after all.”

Tsugumi stood and moved over, taking a cup for herself. Avaron found her rather interested in pouring the water, then taking a sip, her eyes squinting thoughtfully. “What an odd taste,” she muttered before taking another sip. “It’s water but …”

“… But?”

“Like something is missing.”

“Probably because there is. It’s purified water with a small amount of mineral enrichment. Stuff this clean isn’t found in nature almost anywhere.”

“Huh. Water has taste? Because of … impurities?”

“Yup. Not everything in it is bad, mind you. Different impurities can actually be good, it’s just hard getting the right balance.”

“Huh.”

The two sipped from their cups, enjoying the cool and refreshing drink. A decent way to wash down the soup and cleanse the palette, all things said and done. Avaron, her mind on water purification, found her attention drawn by Tsugumi’s relentless eyeballing in her direction. What she did not speak, her eyes showed in utter clarity—a ravenous, predatory desire that might’ve been to eat her as much as fuck her where she stood. Either way, her skin shivered with goosebumps, her heart perking awake with an anxious anticipation.

_And here I thought my water tank was pretty cool,_ Avaron thought, setting her cup down in the tray again. Tsugumi mimicked her, the two of them standing there staring at each other like a moment at the office. You know, before two people go into the conference room to discuss their bi-weekly performance analysis for athleticism. In a company that does software. “Alright, enough of that,” she declared, stepping forward. For what ever Tsugumi expected, being literally swept up into Avaron’s arms bridal-style caught her off guard. Her fearsome visage broke with a cute, surprised squeal, all four arms grabbing onto Avaron’s shoulders.

“Y-you—mmm!” Tsugumi’s disgruntled voice was swallowed up by Avaron’s heavy kiss. Lips against lips, the angle and strength of the tentradom more than enough to keep her down. Tsugumi’s fingers slackened, heart-pounding twitches going through them as her knees squeezed together. Step-by-step Avaron took her toward the gigantic ‘bed’, one more than adequate for a couple people. Their mouths parted with a sucking pop and sharp inhales, Avaron smirking rather triumphantly.

“Caught you,” she said with a wink, flustering Tsugumi. “Now you get to find out what happens to women …”

“… What?” Tsugumi asked wearily. Avaron moved up on a raised step, giving her a good, center-shot of the bed. In one smooth, delicate heave, she chucked Tsugumi onto the pillowy flesh and its soft fur, making her chirp loudly! Avaron followed after, climbing on top of her with all-fours, boxing in the fearsome spider. Those two lower hands grabbed onto her hips, with the upper pair clutched at Tsugumi’s chest—nervousness? An act? It proved hard to read, despite its vulnerable air.

“Mmm, you know,” Avaron purred and smiled. “Wandering into a cave at night, swinging those sexy hips, smiling the prettiest smile around …” she muttered, burying her face into Tsugumi’s neck. Giving that tempting lilac skin one long, tasting lick, she swept from bottom-to-top, stopping just underneath Tsugumi’s jaw. A stuttering little sound answered, her mate squirming with an aimless energy. “It’s bound to give sexy beasts like me a certain _idea_.”

“Sexy beast?” Tsugumi echoed for a moment, a rather dubious look in her eyes.

“Hey now …” Avaron remarked with a flustered disbelief.

Chuckling behind her hand, Tsugumi laced her fingers through Avaron’s hair using the other one. “And what does a ‘sexy beast’ do to, mmm, innocent maidens …?”

“If we like what we see, we snatch them up, of course.” Avaron leaned in, planting another, securing kiss on Tsugumi’s tasty lips. Just a short, sweetly heavy melding of their mouths, and the faintest taste of the other teasing the tongue. “Take them back to our little hovel, where they can’t escape from.”

“Oh?” Tsugumi purred with naked interest in the sound.

“Oh yes,” Avaron agreed, and planted a third kiss on Tsugumi’s mouth. She squirmed underneath her, so _anxious_ and grabby with her four hands. “Nothing like having a sexy little maiden in our nest, just _begging_ and _begging_ …”

“B-begging? For what?”

Avaron chuckled darkly and leaned back, whipping her head to move all her hair to one side. Tsugumi stared up, all six eyes wide and curious. “Well, I think—” Avaron moved in, laying her mouth next to Tsugumi’s ear, “—you’ll figure it out.”

Whatever question she spoke disappeared in a womanly mumble of noise, every word gobbled up by Avaron’s kiss. Driven by desire she suckled and pulled, massaging Tsugumi’s mouth in wide, enveloping motions. The woman arched her back, pressing closer into Avaron as she too tried to return the gesture! Growling at the back of her throat, Avaron dropped her weight down, pinning Tsugumi to the flesh bed all the more securely. Before her deadly mate might think otherwise, she scooped up all four hands—gripping them two wrists at a time.

A rather awkward feat and not all that secure of a hold, it turned out.

Still, Tsugumi let herself remain there, much to Avaron’s silent gratitude.

Swiping her tongue across Tsugumi’s fair lips, she lapped and suckled with abandon, making sure slippery spit got everywhere it could. How cute her little spider turned from kissing to sputtering! Sheer annoyance and garbled words followed, ever trying to say something silly. Avaron pushed Tsugumi into the flesh bed, gushing out, “Mm, mm, I love your lips.”

Blinking her six eyes, her mouth shiny and slippery, Tsugumi whispered back lowly, “Do you, now?”

“Mmhm, now, be a good girl and open wide …” Avaron spoke, smirking as Tsugumi stared, momentarily confused. The bulge in Avaron’s throat traveled upward, squirming like a worm as it moved. Her lips parted in a spittle-strewn web as the pulsating, modest tentacle popped out. All six of her lover’s eyes widened at the sights, her tongue flicking over her lips subconsciously. Yet when Avaron leaned in, seeking that very same mouth to plunge into, Tsugumi pursed her lips tight.

“Nuh-uh,” the woman teased with a throaty sound, eyes peeled in silent laughter.

Plap, plap, plap, Avaron quite awkwardly slapped her tenty against Tsugumi’s lips. Frowning at her lover’s adamant stalling, they stared each other down. A game that, well, Avaron had trouble with when trying to figure out which six eyes to look into. Sucking her tenty back into her mouth, she kept it hidden just behind her lips. Humming in mock-annoyance, Avaron leaned in, gently kissing Tsugumi’s neck. Nipping and nibbling with her lips, the spider jerked and squirmed, now rather quite animated. _I’d hate to let go, but …_ Avaron had to reach down, grabbing Tsugumi’s knees. Four hands quickly grabbed onto her shoulders and arms, lacking all the strength to actually do anything. Spreading those beautiful legs open, Avaron made herself at home between them, pushing her pussy flush against Tsugumi’s. A sound inhale followed and she smirked triumphantly.

Just a thin, unwanted strip of cloth between them now.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tsugumi grumbled, her lewd, hotly anticipating look quite contrary to her words.

Roiling her hips in a long, pointed grind, Avaron quite blatantly made her point clear, rocking Tsugumi against the bedding with her thrusting. A mix of playful mocking and foreboding intent, Avaron quite enjoyed how Tsugumi futilely tried escaping, jumping with her hips, pulling her legs in Avaron’s hold … oh, it really got her blood pumping. Goodness, the way she moved and how hard Avaron had to hold her, keep that riley _woman in place_ —lunging forward, she hurriedly brought their faces nose-to-nose, Tsugumi’s lips parted in a half-formed moan. Recognition flashed in those ruby eyes all too late.

“Oohhh—mnphf?!” Tsugumi gurgled as Avaron’s throat tenty thrust into her mouth. Avaron followed behind, their lips sealing into an O-shaped kiss, connected by the pulsing, squirming tentacle in both their mouths now.

The hot, wet warmth washed over Avaron, punctuated by that wriggling tongue and the hardy teeth she felt. Pure, sexual delight traveled down her shivering back, hitting square in her belly. Moaning deep in her throat, she pulled her tenty back, its arrow-shaped head wedging against Tsugumi’s teeth. With no ceremony she thrust forward again in a slow, pointed move, feeling _every inch_ as she sank _deeper_ into that wet hole. Goodness, how Tsugumi’s little tongue lashed against her! Whether to push her out or get a grip, it excited her all the more with every random and unexpected stroke.

Four hands grabbed onto her back, one of them scratching, two trying to grip, and the last wandering up and down. Tsugumi brought her into a hug as much as pushed up into Avaron, locking her legs around the tentradom’s hips quite _pointedly_. Rocking into her lover, Avaron perched onto her knees for angle, achieving quite the unintentional mating press along the way. Sinking one hand into Tsugumi’s lovely hair, she grabbed one of those milk-swollen breasts with the other. A hearty head-to-toe shudder passed through Tsugumi, her eyes heavy and pupils wide with carnal expectation.

Goodness how Avaron just wanted— _needed_ —to do things to her. Fuck her full of cum, kiss her lips, lick her neck, bite her legs, drink her pussy, fuck that same pussy full of squirming little eggs—the rush of lust left her foggy in the head, their awkward kiss slurping noisily all the while. In and out she fucked her mate’s mouth, making sure to coat _every inch_ of Tsugumi in its feeling. Subdued swallows followed deep, throat-wrenching gulps that drank spit and precum alike, a suctioning power demanding Avaron come inside _deeper_.

Oh, so much deeper.

A deeper, welcoming hole that teased her tenty’s head.

Still, Avaron held back, absently aware of _that particular_ barrier. Yet Tsugumi’s helpless, throat-filling mewl reached her ears, a keening sadness that spoke of a deeper desire. Did she hear wrong? If she did, then she’d certainly get the daylight beaten out of her later. Ah, goodness, how Tsugumi clawed and pulled the two of them closer, grinding their whole bodies together in blatant desire.

_Fine._

A dam that cracked soon broke beneath their lust, and Avaron pressed their lips that much tighter together. In one long, smooth thrust, her tenty plunged through Tsugumi’s mouth, sinking deep into her throat. One might see the very bulge of it traveling down her neck, accompanying all six of her eyes shooting wide open. The tora went rigid, both their writhing bodies flush and locked together in a single, shared moment. Avaron saw stars, her head boiling with the lush wonder of such a ribbed, undulating and yet invitingly smooth flesh around her tenty. Oh, sinking into it was a whole new world of sensation! She couldn’t help drawing out, pulling back into Tsugumi’s mouth with a suckling squelch.

Their eyes locked, and a hand on Avaron’s head nudged her in closer. Or tried to; they were already as close as can be. She got the message, though.

Taking her time, Avaron plunged in once again, reaching as low as the half-way point before drawing out again. One deep, throat-fucking-plunge at a time, Tsugumi’s tongue ever busy licking in long, sexual tastes. Tiny, throat-filling squelches followed the throat-bulging motions. _She’s—she’s really—_ Avaron went crossed eyed for a moment, her own thoughts and Tsugumi’s lustful eyes spinning her mind. Despite being on top, she really didn’t feel it! Tsugumi devoured everything and more, grappling and holding firm like a predator and their prey. Rather than fucking _her_ , Avaron felt more like everything _she had_ was being sucked out.

Ohh, how the thought made her skin perk and her blood light up.

Goodness that cum hungry, salacious slut eating up her—Avaron’s eyes swirled, the lewd idea racing through her. Forget pushing over the edge, it damn near shoved her in one mighty, body-seizing spasm. Clutching tight as could be together, Avaron’s own throat bulged as pulsing, rounded shapes jerked up through it. Avaron’s cheeks bulged, then it pushed out, their jaws reflexively opening wider. For a brief moment she saw Tsugumi’s eyes widen, utterly caught off guard by the first load of cum passing through their lips. Oh the hot, tight tension of that mouth sucking tightly, and her throat gulping in anticipation!

A girlish moan reached her ears, echoed by another, their two sweet sounds intermingling. The first sticky load blew into Tsugumi’s throat, gushing warmly down to her waiting stomach. Then the other, then another, and still more followed in a hearty rhythm. Poor Avaron went out of her own mind at the hot, vice-grip of an embrace and the _relief_ of unloading herself. All that building tension disappeared into long, jerking spasms down her tentacle, feeding her hungry mate. At least, it went well until Tsugumi suddenly shoved her sideways.

“Mhmm?!” Avaron squeaked, landing on the bed utterly bewildered. All of her tentacle followed, at least until the arrow-shaped head wedged against Tsugumi’s teeth. Reclining there, the tora woman smiled—as much as one could—while she grabbed the tentacle, holding it in all four hands. Slow, purposeful strokes and squeezes traveled along the pulsing blue-fleshed length. Not for pleasure, but to milk it and get _everything out_.

What a world of hard strokes and touches, soft lips and vexingly firm, wet tongues! Avaron barely made out Tsugumi’s throaty swallows, her cheeks bulging with each blast of cum before sucking it all down. How well she fared, barely any of it spilling out of her lips. Not quite liking the feeling of a bed away from Tsugumi, however, Avaron scowled. She scooted over and sucked her tentacle back down her throat, winding it up as one would rope. Wrapping her arms around the tora in a bear hug, their lips met again in a hot, sticky molding.

There they remained, groping each other’s backs and butts, legs intertwined in hooked-around-each-other grapples. Time proved rather hard to know, but Avaron’s deep, insatiable need to cum finally abated. When the tentacle deflated and pulled back, they both gasped for air in a loud, wet pop. Huffing and puffing, they stared into each other’s eyes, Tsugumi’s practically glowing with heart-shaped desires.

“Mmm, mhmhmhm!” she chuckled, licking her lips in a long, exaggerated motion. “I missed this taste.”

“Oh yeah?” Avaron said, brain still half-stupid.

“So filling … mmm, not quite sweet, as much as I want to call it that …”

For as much incidental tasting of her own cum she got, Avaron hadn’t a clue how to pin it down either. Perhaps it might be very different for than the women she’s meant to fuck and pump full of it? It made sense, in its own way. Gently combing her fingers through Tsugumi’s hair, she smiled as the tora arched into the touch. Just a soft touch upon the scalp, from top-to-bottom where the back of her neck was.

“Mm, that’s …”

“You’re so pretty,” Avaron said, dreamy eyed even as Tsugumi chuckled.

“Am I now?”

“Yes, damnit. I’d paint you if I knew how, you know. The way your eyes are all intent but you got these soft lips and that—that look.”

“’That look’?” Tsugumi asked amusedly.

“Yeah, one of those looks like you know what you want. It’s really hot, and cute, and sexy, and I’mmm drunk on my own cum I think?” Avaron said, turning to wondrous perplexity as her eyes squinted. “Or that sexy scent of yours or that … mmm, fuck.” Gay little giggles broke out of her then and Avaron blew up her messy, sweat-slicked bangs. “Fuck!”

“My, dear customer is so _vulgar_ ,” Tsugumi teased, pinching Avaron’s cheek lightly.

“Listen, I’m just saying.” Avaron held up a finger for emphasis before poking Tsugumi’s cloth covered boob. “It might be best if you don’t wear clothes when you’re underground.”

“And why is that?” Tsugumi asked, incredulity flavoring her amusement.

“’cause it's real hard to stop me from wanting to fuck anywhere and everywhere at any time?"

“That—” Tsugumi blinked unevenly before hiding her mouth behind a hand. It only made her conspiratorial thinking look all the more devious to see. “Mm, okay.”

Avaron did a double-take for a moment.

“Do not give me that,” Tsugumi hissed out, slapping Avaron on the shoulder. “I am merely saying, it may be prudent to have a ‘no clothes’ rule down here.”

“Wwwhhyyy?” Avaron said long and slowly, eyes suspicious.

“It would be less messy to clean up.”

She wasn’t technically wrong. Avaron still kept her airs for a moment before starting to paw at Tsugumi’s clothes. “Well, since everyone who matters agrees, this is now a ‘no clothes’ kind of underground.” Laughing, Tsugumi nodded and the two of them started to undress. Not in the ‘lets tease one another’ way so much as ‘get it off right now’. In no time at all they laid on the flesh-bed, utterly naked and slick with sweat. Avaron paused at the sight, unabashedly staring at Tsugumi’s fit, feminine body. With how quickly the first pregnancy came and went, one wouldn’t notice any real changes—well, aside from the milking breasts and slightly plumper hips.

Tsugumi made a show of hiding herself behind her four hands. “It is rude to stare.”

_Is she for real?_ Avaron thought before making a great, heaving sigh and flopping beside her mate. “You know I’m going to be staring a lot, right?” she said, poking Tsugumi in the chest. “No clothes down here means lots of beauty for me to see.”

“Let me have my fun,” Tsugumi said, puffing up her cheeks annoyedly.

“Let me have my fun,” Avaron echoed mockingly, grabbing at two of Tsugumi’s arms. “Bashful maidens won’t last very long here!”

“Ehh?” Tsugumi squealed, deftly defending and grabbing Avaron’s own hands. The two tumbled over sideways, Avaron’s offensive maneuver putting her on the defense instead. Smirking triumphantly, Tsugumi straddle Avaron’s hips, petite butt making itself comfortable on her laps. Two hands kept Avaron locked down, while the other two rubbed together diabolically. “Tut, tut, tut, this maiden is not so easily beaten.”

Avaron couldn’t help her irritable frown. _Always with the extra hands, her. Come on there has to be some way of …_ It really wasn’t that much of a problem, but she _was_ a tentacle monster, right? Lots of, well, tentacles, squirming body bits, luscious pleasure waiting to be unleashed—more than just the fun packages in her mouth and pussy. Something that might—

A muscle somewhere in her back shifted, cracking with the lightness of cartilage. Avaron’s eyes shot open for a moment, the sensation utterly painless but completely bizarre to feel. Instinct pushed her upward suddenly, hugging herself to a just as surprised Tsugumi. “Don’t get cocky,” Avaron bit out, smiling with an exhilarating rush in her whole body. She didn’t need a mirror to see what had come out of her, and Tsugumi’s stunned disbelief spoke well enough. “You’re in _my_ lair, after all.”

For want of any words, the palpable aroma of arousal wafted up, freshly strong. Poor Tsugumi sat there, her whole eyes betraying the lewd thoughts going on in her mind. For Avaron, she simply found a part of herself otherwise sleeping the whole time. A simple desire to change and her back porcelain cracked open, eight eighty blue-fleshed tentacles jutting out. Unlike the arrow-shaped heads, theirs was a smooth, rounded flesh. A knobby joint at the end gave their thick tips a bit of a grab, not unlike a crab’s claw.

“I find myself under armed for this encounter,” Tsugumi said, quite clear in her tone. It surprised Avaron so much she couldn’t help a bark of a laugh escaping before slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Dork.”

“I am not a—” Tsugumi’s reflexive smack stopped midair. A tentacle wrapped around her arm, slithering across it with a viper’s striking speed.

They both stared at the binding, Avaron more surprised of the two. “Damn, I have reflexes,” she appraised with a laugh. Somewhere between thought and instinct, this new part of her felt ever familiar. Not unlike finding a muscle that was always there, but just unused until that moment. With her newfound tentacles, Tsugumi ended up constricted around her arms and legs. She squirmed and jerked, testing the bonds that only gave so much before tightening up. _Oh, this is weird,_ Avaron thought. _It’s really weird._

Still, she couldn’t give the game up. Cocking her nose upward haughtily, Avaron smirked. “I have you now.”

“Hmm.” Tsugumi’s eyes all squinted, her careful squirming continuing nonetheless. “I wonder.”

Avaron’s eye twitched. Using her tentacles and arms, she lifted Tsugumi up and rearranged their seating. Quite a lot of squirming and moving of limbs and _she kept trying to escape_ but the tentacles never let go. Their slick, oozing wet flesh slipped and slid, groping Tsugumi’s limbs but never letting go. Avaron found herself even impressed by that, it certainly wasn’t like using a hand. “You’re not getting free,” she said darkly, making Tsugumi giggle lightly.

“Your hold is not so gr-greaaat—” Her words hung and choked when Avaron’s hands _securely_ groped her milk-laden breasts. Tiny wet spurts leaked out right then and there, her nipples squirting between Avaron’s fingers. “Oh! Oh my …”

With Tsugumi limp enough for the moment, their new seating took hold. Avaron laid against her mound of ‘pillows’, Tsugumi’s back to her chest, and all those blue fleshy tentacles coiling around her arms and legs. It left her tight, petitely round butt right on Avaron’s lap, squirming and grinding against her idly. Letting out a pronounced, satisfied sound, Avaron rolled her fingers, squeezing more milk out in the process. Tsugumi moaned, some words dying noisily in her exhale. Avaron leaned in, her cheek rubbing against the top of Tsugumi’s head. “Caught you, little maiden.”

“Noooo,” Tsugumi whined pathetically, kicking her legs and trying to hit with arms—really it didn’t do anything at all. Somehow that squirming struggle tickled Avaron, her whole demeanor shifting for a moment. Her tentacles tightened and her hands gripped firmly, subduing the pitiful motions. She blinked, her mind righting itself again.

_That … mm, oh dear._

She’d rather not deal with that right now. The bigger problem was the mass in her belly deciding it wanted out. Pushing open Tsugumi’s legs with her own, they parted open slightly and Avaron let out a long grunt as her business partner in crime rode on out. Tsugumi squeaked at the sight, the big arrow-shaped head of a tentacle looking even larger between her legs. Even Avaron thought so, staring widely at how it stacked up against her mate’s thigh. “So now, you must be wondering, what it is I do to sweet little maidens who wander into my cave,” Avaron said, gradually finding her ‘evildoer’ voice again. “Such a scary thing, isn’t it?”

For once she had some modicum of control over the damn thing. Careening upward in a U-shape, her tentacle softly slapped onto Tsugumi’s belly with a ‘plap’. The two of them watched as it inched upward, slithering from side to side. The length of it dug into Tsugumi’s soft nether lips, grinding against them as it extended more and more. She tried closing her thighs, but Avaron’s other tentacles kept her knees comfortably open, leaving her so terribly exposed.

“Whu-what is it?” Tsugumi sputtered out.

“You feel it, right? It’s _size_ down there …”

“Y-yes!” she chirped when the tentacle flexed, pushing into her hard for a moment. “Oh, it’s too big! It’s too big?!”

“Oh it’s big, but I have a feeling it’d fit inside you _just fine._ ”

“Inside me?!”

Avaron couldn’t tell if Tsugumi was acting anymore or not. “Mmhm. Hey now, don’t look away,” she demanded, grabbing Tsugumi by the chin. The tentacle had reached between her breasts, pushing through their soft valley with a determined _jerk_. When that failed, it tensed and _thrusted_ through them, proudly hugged by Tsugumi’s soft skin. Goodness just _feeling_ all that womanly softness against her length, oh it made her gut churn. A tightening anticipation underpinned by such frustrating need to feel _more_. The tip of her tentacle curled before Tsugumi’s face, hovering like a viper just in front of her lips.

They stayed there, Avaron’s blood pumping hard enough her whole body throbbed. “Give it a lick, will you?”

Tsugumi shook her head, however little she could. “Not in my mouth,” she protested through her clenched teeth and shut lips. Quite the prepared response.

“It’s not that bad …”

“Too big.”

Tsugumi wasn’t strictly wrong; Avaron’s size there relative to her mouth did even concern her. Hemming and hawing for a moment, she then said, “Just lick and suck it, then. I’m sure you’ll love the taste.” Avaron poked at those demure lips with her tentacle, its impressiveness all the more obvious then. For what leery look Tsugumi had, her naked interest won with a small, tepid lick. Such a cute little red tongue swept out, sliding upward in a tasting lick. Avaron’s face convulsed, her eye twitching and the other squinting, enraptured for a single, lightning struck moment.

That she didn’t gasp for air at the end was her only saving grace. Tsugumi let out a pleasant hum, her tongue licking again and again. Up then down, then around in a circle, all so tiny in her motions, but dutiful and diligent. Avaron couldn’t help sliding in closer, the fat head of her tentacle kissing Tsugumi’s lips. It twitched and pulsed, small trickles of savory cum spurting out. Tsugumi hurriedly licked it up, her wrapping her small mouth around the head and sucking it. A simple method of licking caresses, then slurping sucks to drink all the cum that followed.

Avaron slowly went cross-eyed, her nerves edging so hard it started becoming painful. Oh, to just _explode_ at any moment, all the tension vanishing in pulsating waves—she could _taste_ the blissful orgasm right _there_. “Gu—good, girl,” she said, catching her own salivating choke. “Good girl, drink it up. You’ll need it all.”

Tsugumi tried asking a question, but the tentacle between her lips refused to let it out. That cute sound really rubbed Avaron’s lustful heart and she reached down, groping at the tora’s flat and surprisingly firm belly. One really had no clue she’d given birth already, be it sight or touch. Running her fingers in long, stroking touches, Avaron found herself noticing the lack of roundness than anything. An empty space where she’d expected taut skin and a lovely, egg-filled belly. Tsugumi jerked in her grasp, heading pushing back and hips thrusting forward as much as they could. She inhaled hard, as if suddenly struck but an exhilarating sensation.

“Oooh?” Avaron cooed, tilting her head and watching Tsugumi’s bug-eyed, delirious look of pleasure. “Do you _like_ this?”

Only swallowing gasps of air answered back, words themselves failing. The more particular Avaron moved her fingers, the faster Tsugumi squirmed. One part of her tried to get away, the other started grinding on the tentacle between her legs. _I know they feel something when they’re pregnant, but even afterward?_ Avaron mused, poking and stroking without reason. It didn’t seem to matter where, as long as it was on the flat of her belly above the loins and below the breasts. _Right where the … womb, is._

“P-please,” Tsugumi gasped out, the single request making Avaron lift her hands away. Falling limp right then and there, Tsugumi panted, her pupils terribly wide and half of them looking straight at her. “Please.”

“Please, what?” Avaron asked lightly.

“Inside me, inside me,” Tsugumi asked as much as pleaded, her knees trying to squeeze shut. “Pleeease, when you touch me …”

Her tentacle already withdrawing, Avaron made a show of humming thoughtfully. “I don’t know …”

“Ava!”

Such a cute little cry made her look over, Avaron and Tsugumi staring at each other. She knew well the look of demand and desperation, and an anger born of lust yet unanswered. What she didn’t expect was one of Tsugumi’s arms slipping free. How it bent that way and with such little effort just _unnerved_ her to feel. A sudden, eye-rolling shudder of pressure around her tentacle blasted that sensation away. One yank and push later she felt the _very familiar_ folds of Tsugumi’s pussy trying to suck her inside. Managing to wrap the tentacle around Tsugumi’s escaped arm again, Avaron tried chuckling with confidence. “Aren’t you eager?”

“Nnhh!” Tsugumi grunted, scowling as she bucked her hips. Up and down, side to side, any which way she could move to sink down onto Avaron’s throbbing tentacle. The more it didn’t happen the greater her thrashing became—Avaron’s real restraint on her being tested right then and there. Tentacles around every limb, she grasped Tsugumi by her tits, the hearty squeeze made her sputter some nonsense words. Everything coiled and tight, not an inch of space between them.

How Avaron felt Tsugumi’s whole body thunder, a tempting tempo her own heart started to match. “Fine, you _want it_ ,” she hissed into Tsugumi’s ear, flexing her business-dealing tentacle against that inviting pussy. “You _get it!_ ”

Both their eyes bulged and their mouths sucked in a gasp the moment Avaron pushed inside. Tenderly soft folds wrapped around vice-gripping muscles; oh how she remember the feeling. How very much it made her eyes almost roll back experiencing it again. “Fuuuuck meeeee,” Avaron bit out in a groan, her tentacle oh-so-happy sinking in deeper. _Feel like a fucking virgin again!_ she thought with exasperation. If it wasn’t the tentacle, it was getting eaten out; oh once it started it just—

Tsugumi rolled her hips, and Avaron’s tentacle followed, softly arrow-shaped edges sinking in deeper. Thought gave way to instinct, and Avaron tightened against Tsugumi. The meaty tentacle connecting them thrusted in, a tiny slurping squelch to be heard. A soft, womanly chirp of excitement followed, and Avaron breathed in through her nose. The cocktail of _pheromones_ took a baseball bat to the concept of rationality right then and there. “Oh, Tsuuuuu,” Avaron sang in a low, almost drunken voice. “I _love_ your pussy!” Her hips perfectly molded to Tsugumi’s rear, only the tentacle moved in its depth-plundering plunge.

“Ah?!” Tsugumi chirped, her belly tightening and knees shaking. A noticeable if small bulge stretched her out, just enough one really could see how deep Avaron had gone.

“Sooo gripping and comfy and …” Avaron babbled dreamily. Her tentacle pulled out, the edges of its head dragging electric lines as it went by. As it withdrew, the sopping wet part on the outside curled into an S-shape before thrusting back in like a loaded spring. In and out, the rhythm made them both pant and moan, Tsugumi’s whole body jerking. Her muscles relaxed as it left, only to scrunch up as it plunged in again. Avaron’s hands kept fast to her tits the whole time, squeezing and pumping them. Even if she didn’t use that much force, tiny squirts of milk spurted out over her fingers and hands, dribbling uselessly downward.

A sudden and intense sensation jolted Avaron, her thick tentacle seizing for a moment. Vexing relief bloomed within her as spasming contractions sent her first load of delectable cum. Letting out a frustrated moan, she hugged Tsugumi as every lip-widening bulge sank into her, splurting the hot load with abandon. Familiar contractions gripped her, a hardy shudder shooting through Tsugumi as her hungry pussy clamped down. Oh the relief! For as much as it eased the nerves it left her _needing more._

Deep-seated instinct to keep _fucking_.

And breeding and breeding and breeding—

Pushing herself forward, Avaron moved Tsugumi onto all fours—well, sixes technically—her hips glued to that woman’s tight butt. Burying her face into Tsugumi’s hair and huffing that wonderful scent of hers, Avaron’s tentacle started again.

“Ehh? Eh?” Tsugumi squeaked out. “Ava?”

“Tsuuuu,” Avaron sang back. Ah, to be mounted right on that tight butt, her thighs firm against Tsugumi’s. Every little squirm she made pushed back into Avaron, surely not to tempt her. No, any reasonable person would be getting comfortable on their newly found all-fours position. Avaron’s brain however, told her that Tsugumi was trying to escape. And escaping couldn’t be allowed. Arching her back and pressing in closer, every tentacle and hand she had grappled the smaller woman all the tighter. She growled, a sound closer to a whining squeak than the menace her mind imagined. “Tsuuu!”

“W-what?”

“Let’s fuuuuck, okay? I want to—to—oh, goddess my head.” A moment of lucidity, if drenched in horniness. “Fuck acting anymore.”

“No, do not ruin the play!” Tsugumi griped, shaking her hips. “The lustful beast captured the maiden and _then what?_ ”

Avaron couldn’t tell up from down anymore, the pussy-wrapped love her tentacle felt just fuzzying her mind. Nuzzling her head beside Tsugumi’s, their unevening breathing huffed and puffed together. “Oooh, fuck. The maiden fought the beast and lost, then got taken to court on breaking and entering charges.”

“What?” Tsugumi sputtered confusedly.

“Then she came back and they dated and now the kids are being made goddess above woman I’m going to explode,” Avaron said, hurrying words turning into a throat-strangled sound. Her tentacle flexed with a mind of its own, a rush of blood expanding it with a quivering intent. It withdrew with a slurp of hot cum and sticky wetness, little tendrils spilling down between their legs. One smooth, extra-slippery sliding thrust in and both of them gasped; Avaron loud, Tsugumi quiet. That was all it took, Avaron’s girthy tentacle sliding in deep, its head flaring and then pulling out again. Whatever load left inside splurted out as room for number two was made.

“Nnngggh your pussy is so fucking good,” Avaron said in a half-whisper.

“And you so deep!” Tsugumi returned, her voice peaking just as Avaron bottomed out in her again. “Deeeep inside me, kissing me there … Hnn, harder!”

Even if she strictly didn’t _need_ to, Avaron couldn’t help humping into Tsugumi’s butt. The thick tentacle splitting their lips and legs sped up on its own, impressively louder in the mess it made. A quiet slap of skin-against-skin followed, Tsugumi’s whole body jolting from every intent-filled hump.

“Yes, yesss,” Tsugumi gushed warmly between moaning squeaks.

So it came to be that Avaron’s hands moved over ontop of, well, one set of Tsugumi’s. Their fingers kind of intertwined, as much as they could in such an awkward arrangement. The thighs tensed and pushed against one another, their toes curled while their feet thumped against the flesh-bed. A tiny duel, measured in inches of skin-kissing contact and followed by their sweet, carnal sounds. Avaron kissed the side of Tsugumi’s face, peppering her lightly as every nerve gripped and tightened with an electric tension.

The time came and so did Avaron when her thighs tensed and her tentacle made that last, final plunge in. Plump lumps crawled out of her and down the length, disappearing into Tsugumi with every hip-shaking convulsion. Avaron’s loud, groaning moan stifled Tsugumi’s quiet shaking, their mutual orgasms blasting the both of them right out of their minds. A delirious smile found both their faces as their bodies sagged, held up by their face-down, ass-up positions more than anything.

One-by-one Tsugumi filled up, her belly blooming gently in size as it got packed up.

Of course, what cum couldn’t fit inside anymore gushed out, a fresh stream leaking and squirting to freedom.

One of them started rocking side-to-side, and the other went with them. The two collapsed sideways, still connected and strapped together with Avaron’s tentacles. It wouldn’t be, until some minutes later, that Avaron spoke up first. “Tsuuuu, hey, Tsu?”

“Mm?”

“If you don’t mind me being forward here but my clit is throbbing like crazy and I’d love your lips on it right now.”

Tsugumi, pausing momentarily, started chuckling purely with her exhales.

*~*

Nuala stared through ethereal mirror before her, shimmering with blue-and-purple colored mists. Her dark-skinned face turned darker and redder, hot with the gayest blush she’d felt in many centuries. True to her expectation neither of them could detect her [Long-Sight Mirror] and its invisible eyes. But to discover an actual, _living tentradom_? One right in the middle of that—that woman conquering mating they were known for? That sticky, flooding cum and the wrangling and the pumping and the—

She jolted, a delectable pleasure shooting up from her core. Her knees had squeezed together on their own, a certain _expectant_ tightness coiling between her thighs. There was no way in the world the tentradom’s profane nature could be affecting her, outside of its lair as she was. Coughing into her hand, she dispelled the [Long-Sight Mirror]; those two were asleep in that _grotesque_ bedding. It didn’t seem quite so bad, being in the shoddy excuse for a hut outside of the cave.

_The queen is … under its influence?_ Nuala wondered, chewing on her lip while she thought. _No, I’ve not sensed anything of the like. Even here … but …_

She had dealt with tentradoms before: finding, killing, and dissecting. Very specific peculiarities followed their kind, tell-tale signs an expert like her would never miss. While some of them did catch her notice, the _dangerous_ ones were absent. The mind-fogging toxin clouds, the writhing, out-of-control flesh spreading like a plague, the roving, raving tentacles eating or killing whatever they found. The first being gone, the second and two remained present … oddly enough.

Very odd.

Nuala sighed and stood, moving out of the enclosure. A walk of the perimeter for security, as much as to clear her mind.

For now all she could do was take precautions and continue observing.

Why the Queen took business with such a dangerous creature yet remained a mystery—exotic knowledge or not.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Interested Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) -- Curious Magi


	20. Rapid Iteration

_Somewhere between dreams and practical reality, there is a road._

*~*

_Okay, but why does it work that way?_ Avaron wondered, hands folded together, fingers pressed against her lips, and sat in a thoughtful squat. Before her, in a patch of blue flesh growth, sprouted out blades of turquoise-colored grass. They swayed as if blown by the wind, despite there being no wind in the underground hive tunnel. The swaying didn’t bother her, that was just the primitive sensory organs seeking out edible gases.

Rather, she quite wanted to know how the damnable grass grew already.

She _just_ slapped together the Caged Sun and run-of-the-mill forest grass genomes from outside the cave. As soon as it became ‘workable’ in her [Genetic Engineering], the Hive began growing it _everywher_ e _._ Well, mostly in the seams between plates, as well as the gutters running along the walkways. The specimen itself—working name ‘air filtering grass’—didn’t really have any problems at the genetic level. Technically that wouldn’t have been a bad thing.

But why did the Hive grow it so autonomously from her?

Avaron pursed her lips tighter. _If I had to guess, it’s not just my conscious thoughts directing the Hive. The subconscious mind, and or the autonomous part of the mind, might be offering direction as well._ She rolled her head. _Whiiiich means unexpected behavior can arise. Wonderful. I really don’t need you doing something when I’m right in the middle of working on it._

Did it count as talking to herself if she scorned the unconscious part of her being?

Setting _that_ thought aside, for better or worse her work was done for the time being. Once the grass spread appropriately throughout the Hive, unwanted gases and other noxious problems were taken care of. Sighing and shaking her head, Avaron stood up and stretched, her back suspiciously lacking the pops and creaks she expected. _Ah, youth,_ she mused with a rueful smirk. Heading up the wide tunnel, she slowly made her way back toward the surface from the still-developing bowels of the Hive.

_Living space, sanitation, air filtration, happy knocked up wife, younglings crawling out of my ears …_ She ticked one after the other off her fingers. _What else am I missing? Food? Is it food?_

Tsugumi and the tentaclelings were handling collection quite nicely—but that was a foraging way of life. To upscale the amount of warm bodies her Hive could support, she needed serious food production. Industrial-scale, even. Which meant not only farming, but food preservation as well. Holding her head in her hand, she ascended the sharp staircase before her with supernatural fluidity. Absolute certainty in every step, for she knew every tiny inch of her Hive. _What to do, what to do …_

The actual growing of plants to eat would be pretty simple. Good soil, sunlight, and atmosphere, then the plants will do the rest. Thanks to Tahn’s godly knowledge, she already knew of dozens of suitable candidates for a widely diverse, nutritious diet to live on. _Actually, now that I’m thinking about it—_ Avaron stopped, taking a moment to reach out across the Hive Mind. The disconnect between her _body_ and the _mind_ ever proved disconcerting, like suddenly being yanked out of a car while driving. She honed in on the cluster of sleeping tentaclelings in the enclosure above; about sixteen, all around.

Wake up.

Go, find this plant.

You lot, go, find this plant.

Four groups were given their orders, as much as ‘thoughts’ as ‘desires’ as ‘words’, in the language that was the Hive Mind. Thus they stirred from their hibernation-like slumber, twitching and gurgling. The arachnid-like tentaclelings unfurled their legs and stood up, startling Nuala who sat at the other end of the enclosure. Avaron felt her accusing stare through her youngs’ senses, but paid her no mind. The tentaclelings scaled out of the enclosure, breaking off into their groups as they ventured into the forest around them.

Satisfied, Avaron pulled back to her main body, ascending the tunnel once again. She reached the top of the stairs, flattening out to a more sloped incline. _Ah, and that reminds me!_ Avaron thought, Nuala fresh on her mind. _That elvetahn mage might know something about ice and cold magic. If I can use that to make a freezer, it’d really help food storage._

*~*

“… Words of Power?”

“I told you the essence of magic was beyond your grasp,” Nuala said, wrinkling her nose. Really, tentradom or not, the woman had no talent whatsoever.

With a heaving sigh, Avaron made some flippant rolling gesture with her hand. “Just run it by me again. To use magic, I need to understand the Words of Power …”

Shaking her head, Nuala closed her book with a hearty _thump_. “No, you simple-minded … woman. Anyone can use spells or abilities, even skills if they possess them. _Magic_ is the language of the Goddesses; it is formed upon their Words of Power. To use magic is to speak the Divine Tongue, and shape the world as one sees fit.”

“Okay I think I’m getting it now,” Avaron said, nodding for some reason or another. Sitting as the two were at the shoddy table in the sleeping enclosure, it looked rather dumb to Nuala. “We’re working on two different ideas here. Tsugumi can do all sorts of things, like make silk out of thin air, or make a stick turn into a magic light. To me, that’s magic, but what is that to you?”

“Spells or abilities,” Nuala remarked dryly. “Simplified, idiot-friendly copies of true magic, or a people’s natural born talents. Some call this magic, even though they are quite wrong about that.”

“That’s nice,” Avaron said, looking quite _dismissive_ of Nuala’s refined opinion. Really, it quite rankled her to see it so blatant. “Let’s say I don’t need a Word of Power or the true essence of magic. In this case, I just need a way to make a room cold—like freezing water or colder, cold.”

“Then simply say that!” Nuala said, exasperated. “A talentless person like you will either need a spellweaver or an enchanter. If you intend for this example room to be cold for a long time, then an enchanter.”

“I see. Well, if you’re not volunteering, do you know of any enchanter who can teach me?”

“Such a thing is not simple to learn. It would be far easier to have one do it for you.”

Avaron stared at her with the flattest expression she’d seen yet. “I’m sure they’ll line up to walk straight down into that cave, huh?”

Oh.

That would be an issue.

Nuala, barely caught off-guard, shrugged her shoulders and adjusted her book on her lap. “If you are in _utmost_ need of it, perhaps I can spare my talent,” she said, looking up at the sky disdainfully. “I am certain Her Highness would insist I do so.”

“I can’t imagine someone of your experience hasn’t worked on a freezer before, at least.”

“… A what?”

They stared at each other, Avaron now being the one caught off-guard. “A, uh, freezer. You know, for food …”

“Freezing food? To ruin it?”

“No?” Avaron said, her face scrunching up in a suspiciously cute confusion. “You do know cooling food helps preserve it longer, yes?”

“Of course I do!” Nuala bristled, straightening her back. “But it is common sense that putting it too cold will ruin it!”

“I have opinions about that,” Avaron remarked dryly before shaking her head. “Alright, putting that aside. I can carve out a room I want to you help enchant to freeze it. Can you … make it so I can adjust how cold the room gets?”

“It is not as simple as a fixed enchantment, but doable. Do you even have the magic crystals for it?”

“Ah.” Avaron’s surprised look told well enough on its own that she didn’t.

One’s weakness was ever an opportunity, however. “Magic crystals are not cheap nor easy to come by. I can procure some once I return to the capital … if you trade something of value to me.”

“Let me guess, one of those Caged Sun flowers?”

The sheer casual way she addressed such a novelty! Rich women truly do speak as if the earth moves at their whim! Nuala’s face contorted for a moment before she stiffly, if controllably, nodded. “One in intact condition is enough for, quite a few, crystals.”

“Alright, done deal. I’ll have one for you when the queen comes by to visit again. Or whatever convoy comes here.”

“… Very well.”

Their business concluded, Avaron rose and headed to the enclosure’s exit. Nuala stood as well, an indecisive thought on her mind. “It would do well to answer one of my questions,” she said, and Avaron glanced back over her shoulder.

“That depends on the question.”  
  


So many to choose from; one idea, a hundred angles. Sometimes the right question in the wrong perspective changed everything. Or, that is how it went in magical study, at least. “I should like to study the tentradom, and its offspring,” Nuala said simply, ever elegant and straightforward in tone.

“… Why?”

“Is it not obvious? A slothful tentradom seemingly at ease with only two women, its young placid and simple, the growth tame and the fumes absent—” Nuala held out a hand in a sweeping motion, “—all right here. The world scarce knows about them save horrible stories. I would like to know the truth.”

Avaron ever regarded her carefully, a rarer expression than what she’d seen. The woman carried tight expressions befitting of one in control, yet so rarely exercised it. Not even in the presence of the queen did she stare so reservedly as she did just then. That, too, intrigued Nuala. “I think you will be disappointed by what you find.”

Nuala’s ears twitched, restrained as they were within her hood. “Why?”

Avaron turned back to the exit. “The tentradom that lives here is one of a kind. It is not like the others, because it is not like them at all. What’s the point in teaching the world about a one-off oddity?”

The idea barely had time to work over in Nuala’s mind before Avaron left, shutting the shoddy door behind her. The mage’s lips pursed together, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. _It is not a rejection, but …_

Avaron’s words held merit, on the surface.

But she would be the one to judge the worth of such knowledge.

At the least, she should seem ignorant of Avaron’s true nature for the time being.

*~*

“This sense of direction is most unusual to me,” Kagura said, breaking the quiet that otherwise pervaded their time together. Truly she was a woman of few words, as far as Gwyneth could tell.

“Mine Flame guides me, tis no reason to fear.”

“I do not doubt the divine. On this earth, I am more concerned about the elvetahn we trespass upon.”

“They will not harm us.”

“For what gives you such confidence?”

“Twas the elvetahn whom the Eternal Flame first spoke to in the world. They left it to answer the calls of other goddesses, but they remember.”

“I had heard the Flame first spoke to man, was that not true?”

“No, tis true.” She need not see to feel Kagura’s dubious looks, and Gwyneth laughed. “Tis the oldest of mine scripture, and rarely spoken. Many doth take offense upon hearing, and so the secret is kept. Elvetahn and man were once one; when man listened to other goddesses, they became elvetahn.”

“That is … quite remarkable.”

Ah, such a wonderfully neutral voice. A practiced politeness that disguised the speaker’s true thoughts. “Verily. The elvetahn remember better than man.”

“As you say.”

The forest around them yet loomed, grander trees coming to tower higher and higher. Their path laid out as much dirt as root, foliage, and other growth all vying for a spot of their own. They saw as far as they often couldn’t, a long stretch of an alley cut off by walls of wood on either side. On the occasion they might find a higher place and see the vast emptiness that hung between the massive trees. To her they seemed nature’s towers, all the wilds the castle they protected. A strange twilight held the air, dancing with dark and light wherever the canopy above grew thick or thin.

While by no means foreboding to her, even Gwyneth took pause at studying her surrounding. Creatures of dim light were more to her liking. In coming close, the veil they thought to be safe under only spelled their demise. She’d surprised Kagura more than once with a decisive fiery blast to an unwanted predator snooping around. T _hey are well-fed enough,_ Gwyneth thought, sending another glittering spark at a loaming panther. The brown-furred cat dashed away quickly, disappearing with a rustle into the bushes. _Running at the first sign of danger, hm._

An uneventful trip in a place such as this was a boon to be had.

So it was, they continued on their way until they found a babbling river cutting through. Grander than a creek but shallow enough one could cross, if at waist-deep depth. Gwyneth studied the waters as Kagura looked afar, using her vision to see what might be ahead.

“Tis nothing dangerous, seemingly,” Gwyneth declared, standing up.

“The area toward the mountains thins out from trees, but there are many bushes,” Kagura appraised, sounding unpleased. “An easy ambush location.”

“They cannot hide from mine gaze.”

“If they are close enough, as you say. Traps are a problem as well.”

“Tis thy specialty, no? We will pass through together.”

Kagura had the air of someone wanting to huff and fuss, but kept it to herself. Gwyneth rather hated indecision; if she wanted to go around, say so. Otherwise, the path ahead stood self-evidently before them. Drinking, refilling their canteens, and finishing up a short rest, they began their trek along the riverbank. Water ever drew life toward it, and all sorts of small and big creatures lurked around. Whether scattering at their approach or resolutely ignoring them, Gwyneth found no fear.

As they cleared the last of the towering trees, and a thick carpet of chest-high bushes awaited, however …

“What is that?” Gwyneth mused aloud, making Kagura jolt to a stop.

“What is it?”

“Tis a spider, larger than a dog, but …”

A quiet unsheathing of Kagura’s daggers followed, the woman quite alert. “It is best your flame be ready.”

“No …” Gwyneth mumbled, tilting her head. “I don’t think it means harm.”

“Why?”

Such an accusing way of asking, how unbecoming. Gwyneth brushed it off all the same, her mind far too confused at what she _felt_. The arachnid-like creature, with its tutbular head and circular mouth snorking along the ground, scrounging for food, was just so _odd_. So very odd. Some part of her mind tickled, reminded of Avaron in a way. A gut feeling that she then knew to be a divine sense at work. _It would mean that, mm, fair Tsugumi hath given birth?_

Oh, that did bristle her sensibilities. A primal reaction of hackling hairs and gritting teeth, minus all the malice. More than anything, Gwyneth found herself terribly frustrated by the idea! Unwilling to put such feelings to words, she stepped forward, bidding Kagura to stand at ease with her hand. “Watch for a moment.”

“… As you say, priestess.”

At the least, the woman did listen well enough.

Gwyneth approached, mindful of her slow speed and careful step. The closer she neared the more alert the arachnid became, until it ‘looked’ up. No eyes to see, no nose or ears, she hadn’t a clue how it knew of its own surroundings. Perhaps, like her, it had a special vision—a hearty explanation to how it zeroed in at her immediately. Gwyneth peeked over the bush between her and it, the two ‘staring’ at each other. A gurgling noise came from the arachnid, an undulation traveling up its under belly until it bulged out near its circular, nibbling-teeth lined pipe head.

“Bort?” it croaked out in a gaseous belch.

“Hello?” Gwyneth returned uneasily.

The arachnid-thing titled its head, the odd curvature of the tentacle disturbingly people-like. “Bort?”

One half of her thought it an animal, the other half thought it a person. Such a queer dichotomy on her senses, but befitting of a tentacle—a tentradom’s offspring, that is. Gwyneth nibbled indecisively on her lip for a moment. “Would thou knowest of mine friend, Avaron?”

“Bort,” the tentacle-arachnid answered, dipping its head up-and-down in a very nodding-like way.

“Oh! Wonderful! I am looking for her, doth thou know where she is?”

The tentacle-arachnid looked around, seemingly acquiring its bearings again. It then rounded around, turning upstream in the direction they had been heading in to begin with. Waving one of its forelegs/claws, it pointed with another gaseous _bort_.

Her sense yet remained proven right in its direction. Gwyneth smiled and bowed her head. “Thank thee, fair one.”

The tentacle-arachnid nodded and went back to huffing and puffing along the ground, scrounging up plants.

Gwyneth waved over Kagura. “Tis safe, lets continue.”

They passed around Avaron’s offspring, Kagura giving it quite the dubious look while doing so. “What is that?”

Gwyneth, half-opening her mouth to say something, clicked it shut. Unlike her, many others had never met Avaron—nor understood her charming uniqueness. “Belongs to mine friend, and the heroine thou seeketh.”

“I—see.”

Nothing more to be said then as Kagura held their peace. They continued up along the river, running across a few more of the tentacle-arachnids busy looking (or eating) plants. The last of the thicket faded away into a mixture of loose dirt, pebbly-strewn shores, and cleared away vegetation. For as sudden as it was, it couldn’t have been natural.

“There’s a house up ahead, it seems.”

“It seems?”

“The foundation is there, but no walls nor roof to be seen. Hm? There are two people approaching.”

Something about Kagura’s aura _shifted_ , an unease entering it so blatantly Gwyneth couldn’t help asking, “What troubles thee?”

“Is that a _tora_?”

“Tis fair Tsugumi, I believe.”

“ _Tsugumi?_ ” Kagura echoed incredulously, their walk coming to a sudden halt. Before Gwyneth might ask what, a new voice cut in.

“Gwyneth! You’re safe!” Tsugumi’s familiar voice called out, and she saw for herself the regal tora come fast-walking into sight. The two stopped short of embracing, sufficing for a clasping of arms and a patting of backs.

“Verily! Twas challenging, but verily,” Gwyneth said, nodding sagely.

“And who is this?”

Avaron’s _luscious_ voice made Gwyneth’s skin prickle and perk up, even despite the cautiousness undercutting it. Separating from Tsugumi, Gwyneth waved a hand toward the woman beside her. “She is Kagura, servant of Lord Honda of Kitinchi.”

The aforementioned woman bowed, as was proper for her people.

Tsugumi started at the name, while Avaron’s brows furrowed curiously. “Honda is still _alive_?” Tsugumi asked with utmost incredulity.

“My Lord is not so easily undone,” Kagura replied coolly.

“He’s the ruler of Kitinchi now?” A pregnant pause followed that self-evident question before Tsugumi started chuckling. She hurriedly hid her mouth behind a hand, her giggles most unpolite. “Really, that doofy brat is a lord now … Incredible.”

“… Doofy brat?” Kagura echoed, eyes narrowing.

“Before we get into anything here,” Avaron cut in with a firm voice. “I take it she has helped you, Gwyneth?”

“Oh! Verily. Twas quite dangerous what we ran upon.”

“I imagine you have some business following her all the way out here, then?” Avaron asked upon turning toward Kagura.

“I am tasked by my Lord to arrange a meeting with you, the heroine called Avaron.”

Avaron looked over to Gwyneth, who nodded. With a sigh and scratching the back of her head, Avaron begrudgingly nodded. “I’ll hear you out about that, since Gwyneth approves. Come, then, we don’t have much but it is better than nothing.”

They headed past the construction site and to the sheer vertical mountain face beyond it. A cave entrance sat beside some rickety, slapped-together enclosure with a tarp for a roof, which Avaron led them inside. Or, rather, let Tsugumi and Kagura head in first. Gwyneth found herself stopped by a firm hand on the shoulder as Avaron hovered next to her.

“Your order didn’t do anything to you, did they?” she asked in a low voice.

Gwyneth smiled wryly at the concern. “No. They believed mine mind tricked; that mine Flame hath erred. Twas most ridiculous to hear! Their faith most obviously lacked.”

Avaron stared for a long moment before letting out a sigh. Leaning in, Gwyneth felt a warm, soft kiss on her forehead, covered by her bangs as it was. She let out a little trilling squeak, _most surprised_ by such tenderness. “Alright. I’m glad you came; I did worry about that.”

Nibbling on her lip and wringing fistfuls of her robes, Gwyneth blushed hotly beneath her face-wrapping visor. To have a heroine worry for her! Strangers by time if not intimacy, and still worthy of such attention. “T-thank thee,” she mumbled out, shuffling her feet to relieve all the anxious energy bubbling up. A hand suddenly clasped her behind, groping right in the middle with a hard, possessive intent. Gwyneth jumped on pure reflex, rising up onto her toes and her thighs clenching tightly, all of her balanced on a tight point and thrilling sensation!

Avaron’s face nuzzled in beside hers, their cheeks kissing with a plush, hot softness. A hot breath followed the words spoken next, “Still want this?”

Had she impressed otherwise? Gwyneth barely gave it a thought while she nodded with a jerky, high-strung motion.

A throaty chuckle followed when Avaron pulled away, patting Gwyneth on the shoulder. “Alright. We’ll talk later.”

Something about that tone tickled her senses; something far different than luscious pleasure. Swept inside by Avaron’s shooing motion, however, Gwyneth hadn’t a moment to contemplate. Altogether, the four of them took seats upon stump-stools near the cold ashes of a fire pit. She rather found herself having trouble sitting properly—not for any fault of the stool! For all it occupied her mind, Gwyneth couldn’t ignore the rather plentiful amount of slumbering tentacle-arachnids. Or tentacles? Spider tentacles … There were over a dozen at least, legs curled up, undulating flesh coiled up or wrapped around themselves.

Quite peaceful in their nearly death-like stillness.

“They’re safe, please do not bother them if you can,” Avaron said, the dry request cutting the settling air. Gwyneth jumped, feeling rather called out; only to see Avaron and Kagura exchanging looks.

“As you say,” Kagura returned smoothly.

“Now, what is this about a meeting with your Lord?”

“I shall signal using magic; my Lord will signal when it is time to speak.”

“Is this a face-to-face meeting or magic?”

“Magic of a kind.”

“I see.” Avaron rolled her shoulders before crossing her arms. “Is that safe? No one listening in or anything?”

Kagura blinked owlishly for a moment. “It is not, but only if someone is looking.”

“I’ll be mindful of what I say then. You can signal your Lord in the morning, I imagine there’s a couple hours difference and he doesn’t want to do a call in the night.”

“… No, he would not.”

Gwyneth knew aristocracy and those trained in its ways—such people were never far from trying to earn favors from the Flame. It bemused her to no end to see such a stiffly formal exchange in location utterly unbefitting of it. More so how elegantly Avaron kept pace for being an otherworldly heroine! Many were the tales of new heroines and their rough, if sometimes offensive, ways. _Did Tsugumi teach her?_ she wondered, briefly glancing over to the stoic and quiet woman.

They’d certainly have the time together …

“What’s theee, what is it, proper etiquette for addressing him?”

“As a foreigner, Lord Honda may suffice.”

“It wouldn’t be something like Honda- _sama_? Or Honda-dono, I suppose.”

Kagura’s head tilted, her gaze briefly jumping toward Tsugumi, who seemed just as surprised. “You know of the formality already?”

“I’ve had high-class Japanese clients before.”

“… Japanese?”

“Ahh, if you don’t know that—what about _Nippon_?” Avaron asked, rubbing her chin.

“I do not.”

“That’s a tough one. Ahh, the only other name I know is _Yamato_.”

Kagura’s cool façade, covered in her wrappings and secretive attire, blatantly betrayed a flash of surprise. “Truly, you are a heroine to speak in understanding of the Origin Land.”

“A rather modern form of formality to be a people from the age of Yamato,” Avaron noted, brow cocking upward.

“I know not of that difference, only that this is the proper form now.”

“Funny, that. Well, is there anything else I need to know?”

*~*

_An honest-to-god ninja. A red-skinned, crimson-eyed one at that—she’s probably some kind of Oni knowing my luck!_ Avaron thought, utterly exasperated. _This is ridiculous!_

Yet, there it was. Tsugumi’s own nature had long spelled a bleed-over from Earth to this world. To some extent, she expected more of the same: eastern architecture, mannerisms, maybe some designs. An actual trained ninja was not what she had in mind. Sucking in a breath, Avaron deflated with a long, blown out raspberry. She continued to float along on her back, precariously stable atop the miniature-lake just outside of the Hive’s cave. The current threatened to suck her away with its slow flow, making her kick her legs every so often to resist it.

A calming way to end the day as dusk began falling and twilight covered everything.

Sadly, not even her wannabe pool did much to ease her nerves. Avaron rubbed her eyes, utmost careful to not capsize herself in the process. _I know there was some crossover, but this much is unexpected. How in the world did they avoid guns until now?_ She squinted up at the beautiful sky, obstinately preening itself before her. _Or rather, what happened to lead to such a pivotal surge?_ In world of magic she scarcely knew the extent of, divine beings—goddesses or not—running amuck, typical nation-state politics, and who knew what else, the whole thing turned out quite precariously.

Someone approached—a quick peek through the senses of a nearby sentry tentacleling showed Gwyneth coming. The comely priestess carried a shoddy box in her arms, something of a cloth and other toiletries poking out. _Hmm? Bathing in the river huh?_

She’d never been one for roughing it in the outdoors. Even just taking the skinny dip she was came along with seven posted guards watching the perimeter. With a grunt, Avaron righted herself in the water, the bottom of the lake quite a few feet under her still. She swam leisurely toward Gwyneth, meeting up with the woman just as the box was set down.

“Oh! Thou art taking a bath!” Gwyneth chirped, startled by Avaron’s sudden approach. “Excuse mine rudeness.”

_If she weren’t so honest I’d think her being sly,_ Avaron mused and shook her head. “It’s fine, I’m just relaxing. I’ll get out for you.”

“No, no, thou need—needn’t …” Gwyneth trailed off as Avaron stepped up the gentle slope of pebbles and silt, rising out of the water. A deluge washed down her porcelain-like skin, turning to streams of droplets that hugged every curve they found. Her shoulder-length white hair clung to the sides of her face and neck, oddly smooth looking. The priestess visibly tensed at Avaron’s approach, her cheek warming redder than the magic flame sitting on her breasts. Soon standing face-to-face, Gwyneth’s gaze sat upon Avaron’s chest with an unabashed fixation.

Or as much as Avaron could tell; the priestess’ visor made her inscrutable.

“It’d be rude of me not to help, wouldn’t it?” Avaron asked, her salacious smirk _fighting_ her control. She probably still looked ready to eat Gwyneth alive despite the effort.

“Help?” Gwyneth echoed, sounding rather out of herself.

Chuckling, Avaron looped her arms around Gwyneth’s shoulders, but not quite squeezing the two of them together. “Unless you want to bathe alone, that is. Hm?”

“N-no! No, but, ehm. That is to say …”

“Come now, Gwyneth, we’re closer than that, aren’t we?” Avaron leaned in, the tips of their noses bumping together. “After all you sucked out all the cum from me with such _devotion_.” Goodness Gwyneth could turn red, couldn’t she? Perhaps being so forthright was too much for the priestess?

“I-I did! Twas, well, very lovely, and …” Gwyneth’s words fell into inherent mumbles, her hands coming to wring together in front of her.

_Alright, too much teasing._ Avaron pulled back, but kept her arms around Gwyneth still. “If you want to be by yourself, that _is_ fine, you know.”

“Tis … not that.”

“Do you want to talk about it, or put it off for later?”

“Ehm … Thou will know, eventually.”

That was a damn ominous thing to say. Avaron looked on curiously as Gwyneth pulled away, her hands coming up to her bindings. The priestess made no show of disrobing sexily, going through the motions as ordinarily as anyone could. The sheer _layers_ that went into her attire were quite something. Outer wear, a layer under that, then another for her actual comfort ‘shirt’ and ‘pants’. When the last of the black-and-gray robes came off, Avaron expected naked skin, only to see all of Gwyneth’s flesh wrapped up. She might as well have been a mummy—even her bosomy breasts were sealed! _How big is she?_ Avaron wondered. _If that is bound then fuck me she’ll be big …_

They’d grow bigger and plumper once she got knocked up—big, huge milkers full of delicious tasting—

Avaron swallowed, her mouth already _rushing_ with delirious hunger.

Yet, as Gwyneth undid the first of the wrappings around her arms, something unexpected revealed itself.

Her peachy flesh, if pale from a lack of sunlight, twisted in and tightened uglily. Scorched streaks wrapped around her whole arm, while others cut across in sharp, clean-cut likes. Some places looked to be torn out, whether by teeth or something else. Avaron’s rising horniness disappeared beneath a tide of stark awareness, the kind only brought on by seeing something incredible. Gwyneth continued on, ignoring or unseeing Avaron’s piercing gaze. Thus the wrappings came undone—her arms, then legs, and with some reservation, then her torso.

So it was Avaron saw naked Gwyneth, standing bashfully before her. The priestess hid her nipples and pussy behind her hands, all the more making her charms spill out. The damage to her body laid plain—the only part of her unmarred was her face, and even most of that hid behind her still-worn visor. A figure blessed by some fertility goddess or otherwise, wrapped in a skin of scars and old wounds long sealed shut.

“Ehm, as thou can, see,” Gwyneth muttered out, her whole being radiating discomfort. “M-mine form is rather—mmph?!” Avaron’s hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her words in an instant.

“Who did this to you?”

Her words came out far, far too strong—a taste of fear wafted into her nose immediately, Gwyneth nearly shrinking away. Realizing she still had shut the priestess up, Avaron tentatively pulled her hand back.

“D-did what?” Gwyneth asked, nakedly frightful.

“This! All these scars must be from torture!” Avaron demanded as much as proclaimed.

“… No?” Gwyneth returned for an answer, uneasy and uncertain. “I hath only fought in battles most nobly, if suffering grievous wounds.”

“What sort of battles leave those kinds of wounds?” Avaron couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.

“I—Oh?” Gwyneth looked down, regarding the flame hovering above her naked breasts. It seemed quite comfortable resting in her cleavage! “Verily? Ehm—” she looked back to Avaron, “—I think thou art mistaken.”

“About _what?_ ”

“The Flame giveth great power—transformation, as thou know. Many think it only destroys, but it can heal, too. These—” Gwyneth moved her arm as if to gesture, only to catch it before she really showed off all her big tits. “These, erm, scars, are the leftovers of the healing. Tis not as gentle as other healing arts. B-but, much faster and more powerful!”

_No shit,_ Avaron wanted to say, but kept her peace. Sweet Gwyneth, what had life done to leave such terrible reminders? Letting out a sigh, Avaron patted her on the shoulder, smiling uneasily. “Alright, as long as that is, well, what it was. If your order or whatever was doing it, they’d be number one on my shit list.”

“… Shit list?” Gwyneth echoed confusedly.

“The people I’m most definitely going to kill.”

“N-no! They hath treated me quite well!” Gwyneth refuted immediately, holding up her hands in appeasement. That did send her breasts bouncing out, hanging with a free, hearty weight and her cutely prominent vulva standing out loud and proud. While her chest bore the scars of damage, her crotch remained quite pristine it turned out! “A-ah?” she squeaked, realizing it all-too-late.

“Nice,” Avaron said, smirking with a thumbs up.

“I—I did not want thou to be, to be … oooh …” Gwyneth moaned pathetically, the distinct saltiness of tears and her distress slapping Avaron across the proverbial face. Before the first hiccup could come, Avaron gripped her in a fierce hug, their naked breasts squishing together. “Oh?”

“I’m not disappointed by you.”

“V-verily?”

“Mmhmm,” Avaron hummed in return. She weighed her words—calling someone beautiful who thought themselves ugly was always a gambit. It worked for some and not others. _Well, if a direct approach doesn’t work, try others!_ Avaron pet the back of Gwyneth’s head, stroking her oily hair. “If these are scars from won battles, are they not something to be proud of? You won where others didn’t.”

“T-true, true,” Gwyneth mumbled, her voice teetering on crying. “Others hath told me twas an unbecoming sight; undesirable. I cannot, ehm, cannot see it …”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“Eh?”

“Sorry, let me rephrase that. Fuck them and fuck their ideas. _I_ think you’re sexy and damn good at pleasing me, you know.”

“I am?” Gwyneth perked up, and then quite heartily jumped at the sudden, dominating slap on her butt. She chirped out a surprised, if pleased sound, and another followed as a second slap landed on her unslapped side. Her whole body pressed in against Avaron, hugging her tighter.

“Hiding a sexy body like this from me should be a crime,” Avaron muttered.

“Forgive me—” another slap followed, “—eeeep!”

“I think some training is in order,” Avaron said, staring down at Gwyneth and her parted, panting lips. “That is, if you’re going to stay with me.”

“Please! Mine desire to serve you, noble Avaron!” Gwyneth chirped immediately, nodding quite energetically.

“What about that Flame of yours? It won’t get jealous?”

“Nay, tis bidding me to serve thee as thou wisheth.”

“And is that all why you’re here? Because the Flame tells you to?”

Gwyneth paused, Avaron’s heated words belying the deep chasm of the question. She nibbled on her lip before slowly shaking her head. “Tis not the way of the Flame.”

“Oh?”

“Mine Flame guides, as it hath always. I could turn mine gaze away, if it guided mine path astray. But, it hath never done so, even now.” Gwyneth smiled lightly, rolling her hips side-to-side against Avaron. “Thy resolute nature, and thy noble soul—both are most, attractive. I feared what thou would do, but as mine Flame, thy path hath not led me astray.”

_And what if the Flame wants you to leave one day?_

Such a problematic question, but now wasn’t the time to be asking it. Instead, Avaron made a show of straightening up and nodding sagely, but turning a questioning eye upon Gwyneth all the same. “I _am_ a tentradom, you know. How might you wish to serve me, beautiful Gwyneth?”

“Everything,” the priestess returned, breathing the word with such fiery warmth out from her very soul. It struck Avaron right in the heart, making her chest thump and her skin tingle from goosebumps. Both hands crept down Gwyneth’s backside, grabbing her plush butt, and her cheeks spilled bulged, threatening to escape such a tight confine. A soft, trilling coo hummed out of Gwyneth’s mouth at the forceful, deep-pressing massage.

“Everything,” Avaron breathed back, leaning in until their lips were scant inches apart. “Such a dangerous thing to give. What if I ask you to fall upon your knees, and give me relief?”

“I will,” Gwyneth answered immediately, and probably would’ve right then if Avaron hadn’t held her up!

“What if I ask you to strut around, naked in front of everyone? Make you say, ‘I’m Avaron’s cum slut’?”

“I—I will!” Gwyneth sputtered, but it was not from nervousness. Her courageous voice carried on in spite of her growing, blatant arousal.

_Seriously?_ Avaron mused and let out a lowly chuckle. “Okay, last question. What if I want you, sweet Gwyneth, to spread your legs, and let me _breed you_? Fill you up with all my young, let your belly grow big and round, your breasts swell with savory milk …” Goodness she hadn’t even gotten half way before Gwyneth started panting in short, huffing breaths. The priestess practically glowed red and radiated heat, almost _vibrating_ in Avaron’s arms. Such incredible energy, barely restrained.

“M-mine belly would bear all thy young,” Gwyneth gushed in a hot whisper. “I would slake all thine thirst! T-thy teasing truly is most unneeded!” she growled out, her faux anger disappearing when another slap smacked her butt again. Her face twisted into a long, opened mouth moan, all her strength gone in an instant. One might call her plastered against Avaron, one-step of full on humping her leg. “P-please,” she whined out, “accept mine devotion!”

Such a dangerous thing.

Absolute submission entailed absolute control—above it all, complete responsibility. By way of comparison, Tsugumi was a woman all of her own, ever befitting of a spider in a house. Whether or not she owned the house, she owned the space she lived in. Such fortitude was, indeed, most admirable.

Gwyneth demanded everything in her entirety. She was not weak, but for one who gave everything, the one who received it must also take care of everything.

It honestly sounded quite exhausting!

Yet, life was about such challenges.

“Mmm, alright,” Avaron said with a smirk. “I shall accept you, sweet Gwyneth. Become mine.”

What words might’ve been said disappeared when Avaron planted a heart, mouth-capturing kiss on her priestess. The soft, plump firmness she knew from her tenty now graced her mouth, oh-so warm and wetly inviting. A delicious tingle shot through her month and down her back at the raw taste of such a _wonderful_ woman. Gwyneth’s hands grabbed onto her back, holding her in a desperate hug as their lips suckled and rubbed together. More than a graceful greeting, they went with a slow burning hunger, tasting what they could however they can.

“Mm! Mm,” Gwyneth chirped and moaned in her throat, their lips parting for the briefest, sharpest inhales. Delicate, slippery pops followed before they sealed together again. Avaron reached up, grabbing the back of her head to keep the wriggling woman in place. A firm hold, a strong kiss, and their lips parted from her tongue slithering in. Gwyneth jolted, undoubtedly tasting for the first time Avaron’s blue-fleshed tongue. A rush of flavors greeted Avaron, the familiar memory of women blasted away by the raw _intensity_ of so much new taste!

Gwyneth and Tsugumi very much had different tastes, it turned out. The heartier, almost _meaty_ flavor Gwyneth offered quite tantalized her belly, stirring a hunger as carnal as otherwise. A hearty thump in her mouth drew her back! Gwyneth’s own tongue awkwardly bumped and pressed into hers, stroking with wide, brutish motions. _Such an innocent woman,_ Avaron thought, teasing her back with just a careful, length-long stroke with the tip of her tongue. A shudder rocked through Gwyneth, something Avaron quite clearly felt with how nearly-humping they were.

A writhing, squirming sensation churned in Avaron’s belly. Not quite the one lower, but upper—her other, newer friend.

Pulling back just enough to break the kiss, the two panted into each other’s faces, lips glistening wet and plump from their fierce exchange. “My, you do know how to kiss,” Avaron teased lightly, earning an enthusiastic nod.

“M-mine skill may not be, practiced, but …”

“And here I thought you a virginal woman.”

“I am! I, oh …”

“Naughty.” Avaron made certain to give her butt another slap, the thing undoubtedly quite red by now. Gwyneth let out a long, slow moan, biting her lip at the sudden strike. Goodness her mouth looked so inviting, partly open, glistening with their shared spittle, her tongue licking around with such tasting delight. Oh, how her gut churned at the sight! If she didn’t do something soon, they’d be far, far busier than she wanted at the moment.

Looking up to the twilight-hued sky, the encroaching night inevitably inched forward.

“We’d best hurry with your bath before night falls. I’d much rather be inside then.”

“V-verily!” Gwyneth agreed with a nod.

It took them a little bit to fully part enough to actually start bathing, though.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Interested Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) -- Curious Magi


	21. The War

_Life is a ripple in the pond of existence._

*~*

“Honda-sama will receive you now, Avaron-sama.”

“Right.” Avaron readjusted herself on the stool she sat upon. A ring of ash laid around her and a idol-like wood carving, small in stature but expertly made. Kagura had laid flowers, some sparkling gems, and other reagants around it ritualistically. If she hadn’t have Nuala double-check everything the ninja did, she would’ve expected it to be a far _different_ operation. Having that snooty elvetahn around was quite useful, it turned out. Nuala, along with Gwyneth and Tsugumi, stood off to the side, watching with utmost scrutiny. Kagura, credit to her, worked under their pressure with an unflinching dedication.

The final preparations done, Kagura lit a single candle and stuck it in the earth before the idol. Kneeling, she folded her hands together, arranging them into four distinct patterns, muttering words under her breath. The tiny flame roared to life, burning down the whole stick and catching the offerings. As if the whole thing had been doused in gasoline, a bonfire erupted from nowhere, but Avaron didn’t feel any heat. Her eyes saw fire, her body felt cool winds.

_That’s just freaky_.

As the idol became consumed, the air around all of them shimmered. Like a mirage coming to life, the dirt ground and surrounding forest vanished beneath a veil of another place. Red-wood frames, covered in artful tapestries of every red, green, blue and gold color lined the expansive hall now around her. Tall pillars jutted up on either side of her, a long, crimson carpet stretching forward. It ascended seven distinct steps, reaching a dais at the top. There sat a man, red-skinned with great white horns jutting out of his forehead.

An honest, true-to-form oni, adorned by black robes lined with gold. Prayer beads hung around his neck, each engraved in some Japanese script Avaron didn’t recognize at all. He wasn’t at all rough looking; refined, and well-kept, but his brick-like physique held an imposing air. Beside the lord-apparent stood six guards, three on either side, all covered in implacable overlapping armor. In all, a place that looked as much a palace as a temple, many of its riches on display but not unduly so. Towering statues lined the wood walls, positioned as if they held up the roof—which they very might have.

_Ah, focus_.

Hands on her knees, Avaron bowed deeply to the lord-apparent.

“The one before me is the heroine?” he said aloud, his voice hard and clear, one trained for punctual commands. “She is not human.”

_Not what I quite expected._ Avaron, maintaining the bow, replied, “Greetings to Honda-sama. As to being summoned in a room full of strangers then thrown into a jail cell, I presume myself one of the heroines.”

“Ho? And why would they do so?”

“Because I am not human.”

“… So it is said. Of what can be offered for your sincerity?”

“The assurance of a Flame priestess, that of Nuala the Black of the elvetahn, and Tsugumi.”

Honda’s jaw tightened at the last name, his piercing yellow eyes narrowing. “You have done great research to know of my past, yet so poorly acted to invoke it.”

At that, Avaron sat upright on her stool, smirking. Holding up a hand, she curled her fingers in an ‘approach’ gesture. Tsugumi did so, stepping across the illusionary boundary. Honda recoiled when he beheld her, face aghast with incredible disbelief. The guards beside him seemed ill-at-ease, tightening their stances and weapons.

“What sorcery is this?” Honda demanded, his voice cuttingly harsh.

“Is that how you greet me, Ringo-chan?” Tsugumi asked coolly, squinting her four eyes.

“Tora do not live such long lives!”

“Hmph, of course. Do you remember when my inn was cursed?”

“How can I not?”

“It seems far more happened than just _locking me inside_.” Tsugumi shrugged her upper-pair of arms. “I know not how, only that it locked me out of _time_ as well. I was trapped for hundreds of years.”

Honda stared, his stoic face working with tiny movements—that of an implacable man utterly bewildered.

Kagura took that awkward silence as a cue to move into the illusionary ring, kneeling before Honda. “My Lord.”

“Speak.”

“I can verify no necromantic trickery is afoot. The tora you see is most certainly alive.”

“… So it is said.” With a barely shaking hand, Honda waved her away, and Kagura bowed out of the ring once more.

“If you need proof, Ringo-chan, there is that time when you and Hanamaka had that _interesting_ drinking conte—”

“Enough!” Honda threw up a hand, trying his loudest to speak over Tsugumi. He coughed into his hand, his red skin a hint darker. “I shall not doubt it is you, Tsugumi-san. Let us not speak such things through magic.”

Tsugumi, grinning and all too pleased with herself, nodded agreeingly. Avaron couldn’t help feeling her smug aura at cowing Honda in an instant. Clearing her throat, Avaron said, “As can be seen by Honda-sama, I speak with authenticity, if that is enough.”

“It shall be considered so. My mind wonders why the Goddesses have sent upon us a non-human heroine.”

“The world has need of my … unique, talents.” Avaron smiled. “And given the war breaking out around me, it seems all the more true.”

“You know of Arden’s ambitions, then?”

“I know of their invasion of the elvetahn—I have spoken with their queen on the matter.”

Honda’s brows crept up slowly. “A not inconsiderable feat, she is most—reluctant, for talk.”

“I’m glad my head is still on my shoulders,” Avaron remarked dryly.

“Such is her way. There are no other heroines with you?”

“No, we were separated immediately. At a guess, they are under lock and key in Artor.”

“Yes,” Honda hummed out, stroking his hairless chin in thought. “The war is most concerning. Were the heroines to side in the affairs of lands, all of the continent will plunge into conflict.”

“Forgive me, but is their role so great?”

“Your ignorance is understandable. Blessed by the Goddesses, heroines are tasked to bring peace to the lands. As such, all lands have agreed to the _Heroine’s Convention_. In return for disavowing involvement in a land’s affairs, they are granted free passage and lodging.”

“I cannot imagine it was that effective,” Avaron said, tilting her head in thought. “Domestic problems that would want a heroine is inherently political to begin with.”

“It is so,” Honda agreed. “Many have seen it as an excuse to prevent heroines from inciting rebellion. But, when the crisis is the rulers of a land, t is inevitable. The power of heroines is one that can shake the world, if allowed to grow. That thirteen—if only twelve that remain—now reside in Artor, it is unignorable. Their power must either be dispersed fairly or killed to prevent calamity.”

_I don’t disagree,_ Avaron thought, but instead said, “If you sought my death, I’m sure your _ninja_ would’ve done so already.”

“Your awareness is well suited,” Honda said, his compliment lacking the warmth one might expect. “I have need of your talents for Kitinchi in a matter of worldly importance.”

“I shall listen to it, but I cannot be certain I yet have the strength.”

“It is not imminent, for which I thank the Heavens. This way of speaking is too easy to hear, I shall send one of my greatest warriors to meet you. She will have all that is needed.”

Avaron nodded. “I understand. How can I help them find me?”

“Kagura.”

The ninja walked into the ring and kneeled once more.

“Your new mission is to protect Avaron and Tsugumi-san for the time being, with your life if necessary. Do all you can to aide Hanamaru in finding you.”

“I understand, my Lord.”

Honda turned to Avaron, regarding her coolly. “I look forward to hearing from you, heroine Avaron.” He turned toward Tsugumi and his stiff features did soften somewhat. “If you should find yourself in Kitinchi, you must come for tea.”

“I do not know when, but I will visit one day,” Tsugumi said, nodding.

“May grace bless you, Tsugumi-san. This meeting is adjourned.”

The illusion flickered and faded as quickly as it started. The idol and offerings were naught but ashes, barely recognizable if that. Avaron let out a breath, her shoulders slackening. _Formal meetings are always so tense,_ she griped to herself, standing up and stretching. Kagura’s sour look, disguised as it was in her wrappings, caught her attention. “What has you so displeased?”

“Hanamaru is … a capable woman.”

“Oh?”

“Do not take her _rough manners_ the wrong way when she arrives.”

“Ominous, but how long will it take her?”

“A few weeks, depending. I shall know more soon.”

“Alright.”

*~*

The woods rumbled, the air and earth shaking with tremors. Neither beast nor weather, such was the passing of people—many in number, great in strength. Distant shouts and punctual _crack-pop_ of gunfire hammered her long ears, the foulest and ugliest of songs to hear. Day and night she had listened, hearing sisters and brothers shout in return, a splash of color in the mute. They faded in time, the burning battles carried farther away. She cursed her nose, for in her long slumber it still remained.

Blood-iron tasted all the fouler lined with the smoke of _gunpowder_.

But such told all she needed, waiting until the stench became stale.

_It’s time._

The thought rang in her mind, a carrion call to the soul.

Her arms twitched, then her legs, the heart in her chest wrenching awake. It thumped more and more, and so too did the blood of people resurge in her sap-filled veins. Dressed in a cloak of feathers and leaves, adorned in the husk of an Ever-Tree, few would recognize her, and fewer still might find her. Lurching forward with a sudden, air-sucking gasp, she gulped air through the Owl-faced mask, a trilling whistle accompanying every breath. Twigs, branches, and vines alike fell off of her, even a small blue bird flew off with a surprised chirping.

The huntress grabbed at the vines wrapped around her arms, tearing them out with all haste. Sticky, pale yellow liquid sputtered out as they fell away to the forest floor before. Rising to a shaky stand, she braced against the trunk, her talon-gloved hand splayed in an adoring touch. “Thank you,” she whispered, the hoarse scraping of her voice barely a whisper. Thus ended her covenant with the noble pine, and so the huntress turned her glowing eyes away.

Two glowing eyes peered out of the pale-wood mask, their ethereal teal light eerily stagnant in the sockets. So it was, with her body born to live again, the huntress knew where the enemy had gone. As the Greatest of Huntresses had foretold, the Arden army had passed by toward the city. The sun hung high above, a favorite of humans when to wage battle. Her quarry may yet be easy to spot.

Flexing and tensing, she teetered on the edge of the branch, foreseeing the path to take.

Pivoting forward, where others would fall, she went sailing through the air. Arms spread as the mighty owl would in flight, she leapt from the branch to the next, her taloned feet grabbing onto safe perch. A tiny whistling of wind, followed by rustling feathers and leaves marked her passage—utterly silent beneath the rumble of war. Branch-to-branch, leap after leap, she vaulted through the infantile trees. Humans feared the deep woods, preferring such shallow parts to move through. Elvetahn tree farming and roadways were one and the same, even if they didn’t see it that why.

And so, how human armies moved through made them easily predictable.

In little time she came upon the invader’s main base, a long rectangular stretch marred with viciously cut-apart stumps. She vaulted up the tallest tree nearby, giving her the greatest vantage point. Even still, she yet remained hundreds of paces away from the nearest tent. Such precautions served well against elvetahn bows, who dramatically lost their power after such distance.

But not for this weapon.

Back to the trunk, one leg stretched ahead, the other curled underneath, she took up a stable position on the barely person-wide branch. Unholstering the long, narrow bundle on her back, she untied the sinew-string that kept the stitched-together leaves shut. There, the dirt-covered elvetahn rifle await, its near-perfect craftsmanship hidden beneath muck and grime. Such kept the sun from glaring off it and giving her position away. Wrapping the leather strap around her arms, she gave the bolt a quick pull and slam shut, affirming it was good to go.

The huntress looked up at the vast field before her, blackish-lips twitching beneath her mask.

_A hit farther than any bow._

One to kill the greatest of human prey.

Truly a challenge befitting her.

The rifle cradled in one arm, she raised her free hand above it. Curling her ring and pinky finger, she stuck up the index and middle, focusing her attention upon it. “Great Owl whom stalks the night, death that follows in every shadow,” she rasped in her scratchy voice. “See through my eyes, the hunt to be.” Her teal-like eyes brightened, wisps of ethereal smoke bleeding out from her sockets. The world distorted before her, the eyes of the Great Owl magnifying all that which was far away. Such great focused vision left her blind otherwise, but surprise was on her side.

Arden’s soldiery had changed since the new Emperor took hold, something most obvious to her eyes. Those from the last emperor still bore the dark grays and blues, while the new blood harbored black and yellow. Most of the mundane soldiers carried the old, while the officers and nobility sported the new. It made them stick out like a naked babe screaming in the night.

_Not you._

Her eyes scanned slowly, every human among the hundreds and hundreds there under her scrutiny. Patient looking and checking, patient checking and looking, then she found her quarry. Near the middle-back of the entire encampment, in front of a grand looking tent, sat General Hajon in his medal-bespeckled uniform. Other Arden nobles surrounded him, dining and laughing in their little gathering. All sorts of guards lined the perimeter, standing at attention but with the laxness of a long, boring watch.

Such tactless commitment to their purpose.

Then again, humans never had the lives to achieve true perfection of form.

The huntress watched, taking in the food he ate, the laughing he made, and the affluent he entertained. Such a clear sight, undoubtedly protected by magical wards. _Not now._

And so, she waited.

The sun crawled across the sky, the festivities gradually winding down. She closed her eyes and peeked over slowly, almost a statue with her speed. A group of four lightly armored knights walked by, spears lax against their shoulders. Yet another patrol, one just as ignorant as the last. Some had looked directly at her, but as one so amusingly declared, “ _what a shoddy bird nest”_. Her gaze snapped forward, watching as Hajon made to leave. Six other people accompanied him, all dressed in the same colors, all sporting their own glinting medals and other irritable insignia.

Reaching slowly into one of three pouches on her waist, she pulled out a clump of dirt and moss. Gingerly plugging her ears beneath her hood, the world became mute in an instant. Indeed, her own bloody sounded louder than anything else, pumping at its steadily unwavering rhythm. The time neared—Hajon and his fellows mounted their horses, seeming to be heading toward the front of the camp.

For what, she did not care.

On the move as they were, magical defenses were far, _far_ weaker.

Ears plugged, she reached to another pouch, delicately unwinding the sinew-cord keeping it shut. Within sat a solid metal rack, filled with ten evenly spaced moonsilver-cast bullets. The green magic imbued within them pulsed across the vine-like filigree, casting an eerie light in their container. Plucking one with her claws, she reached up, slamming the bolt open with her wrist. In a smooth motion she slammed it shut with her palm, the rifle made ready.

The huntress sucked in a breath slow and controlled. Easing her muscles in a brief, leisure moment of relaxation, her eyes tracked Hajon and his slow ride. A clearing between her and them would soon appear—a roadway between all the tents and supplies. He disappeared behind a brown-cloth tent, and she pulled in one final breath, holding it deep in her chest.

Her clawed finger crept into the trigger guard, resting as gently as a feather.

_Oh Great Owl, harken your eyes upon me._

Hajon and his retinue slowly inched into sight; her heart beating steady.

_Grace this kill with your wisdom._

The angle made, the range estimated, the practice at the Queen’s gun range and a lifetime of hunting—all for this moment.

Eyes tight, sight true.

Ba-dump.

Her finger fell upon the trigger, and a mighty kick slammed into her shoulder. Air blasted out beside her, blowing open her cloak and blasting off all the loose foliage clinging on. Across the field sailed the bullet, nearly invisible to the eye save the green-hued glint. Faster than the beating of a heart it met the magical barrier protecting General Hajon, the briefest of flashes light following. The next, as if flicked by a mighty goddess’ finger, Hajon and his horse went sailing backward. His lower half yet remained in its saddle, his legs tight in place, his other flying in a meaty chunk into a nearby tent.

Ba-dump.

Hand flying the moment the shot was made, she slammed the bolt back and caught the ejected casing. In one motion she set it back to place and drew another bullet, loading the rifle once again. By the time any around Hajon looked to see what happened, her second shot was already lined up.

Ba-dump.

Their faces contorted with incredible awe, just then becoming abject horror. The second round blasted through a noblewoman, sending her remains and her horse toppling into another nearby.

Ba-dump.

The third round readied as the humans began panicking, instinct more than thought moving them. The third bullet killed the man leading the way forward, and his thrown-over horse made those behind him collapse in a pile of panicking animals. Such terrible luck might kill them on their own, but she took no such chances.

Ba-dump.

The fourth round took the head and shoulders off an officer of some kind, decorated as she was in medals. Perhaps a lower-grade commander or official; whoever Hajon treated with must be important. The huntress hadn’t quite aimed for the head, but the sheer destructive pull of the bullet did wonders on its own.

Ba-dump.

By the fifth round the group had scattered or been killed, her last confirmed kill a knight in ornate armor. Although his body remained yet together, a hole the size of a tree log had punched through his torso completely. Such wounds would be impossible to heal, if their souls had not already departed. Exhaling, she then took in a breath, filing away the last empty shell. In wrapping the rifle up again, she shouldered it and readied to move out.

Yet her eyes saw something that gave her, of all, pause.

The noblewoman who yet died on the second shot rose up, the left side of her upper torso gone in its entirety. Such would undoubtedly destroy the heart, an assured death. Blood and sinew regrew, flowing back into her with such audacious impossibility. Naked as she was with her destroyed clothing, in seconds she stood reformed, a black mist clinging to her pale skin. Their eyes locked—teal clashing against moon-glowing gold. The woman stepped over the screaming horse she’d fallen from, her every step sinking her lower into the earth. She disappeared into a puddle of shadows, ripping its way across the earth toward her very tree.

_A nagraki highborn?_ the huntress marveled, stunned by a sight she had not seen in centuries.

Only, however, for a moment.

Pivoting off her branch, she vaulted away, fleeing into the forest far away. In the barely minute-long time from first shot to first jump, hardly any of the human army had realized what happened. Indeed, the crack-bang of her rifle might be thought as being from the frontlines not that far away. She didn’t fear them; the nagraki, on the other hand …

Tree-after-tree she leapt with speed and determination, all the grace of an owl not once missing a step or hitting a branch. Beneath her followed the nagraki’s wretched shadow, as fast as her but ever befuddled by the height of the trees. It could not reach her before she left it far behind, and its shadowy power kept its magic restrained. An endless chase she, however, was destined to lose. The huntress’ gaze swept through the woods, the earlier magic gone and her ears cleared of the plugs.

_What to do?_

She could not risk bringing such unfathomable danger to the Greatest of Huntresses.

Nor could she be captured, to suffer the damning fate of thralldom beneath a nagraki.

But her mission had been one of human prey, and she lacked the tools to deal with it.

Her mind raced with uncertainty, her feet and instinct guiding every fleeing vault. So it came to be they sped deeper into the forest, the canopy growing thicker, the light ever dimmer. Once her refuge, the shadows now turned into an enemy she couldn’t prevail against. With darkness, however, came an idea. A gambit that, even if she failed, her soul might still be saved. Decision made, resolve found, she leapt toward with renewed purpose in her flagging legs.

The boundaries that stood clear to her she doubted even a nagraki would notice. When the sun disappeared and the light of the fireflies prevaded, and flowers bloomed with petals of glass—one tread upon the Heartwood. Such might be forgiven if one left quickly, but to speed through it would incur the ire of those who loomed tall in this place. A clearing in the thicket presented itself, a circular area filled with purple grass and green flowers. The huntress landed with a soft grace, the force of it barely disturbing the foliage.

In all due haste, she unholstered the wrapped rifle and laid it across the grass. Kneeling down, she fluffed her cloak open and spread her hands, palms up and fingers at ease on top of her weapon. Head bowed and eyes shut, she waited.

Behind her, twisting shadows unfurled around the nagraki, strutting into the clearing with a satisfied smile. “Finally tired, little tree hugger?” she asked in a voice that didn’t want an answer. “I must say, as surprising as your assassination was, the run was the fun part!”

_Such a grating voice._

Humans found that sort of thing attractive?

“Well? Nothing to say? No fun?”

What was to be said, wouldn’t be for her.

“Ahh, all your kind is like this! It’s so boring!” the nagraki whined before clapping her hands. “Well, no matter. We’ll have a lot of fun together. You broke my last pet, so why not become his replacement?”

The huntress saw, from the edge of her eye, pale-skinned legs covered in fishnet-like stockings pace around her. The nagraki’s attire had changed, no longer the noblewoman that would blend in so easily. She didn’t dare raise her head all the same.

“Mm, a bit gaunt, even for an elf. Well, at least you’ll fatten up easily, no?”

A snap of twigs echoed in the deathly stillness pervading around them, making the huntress’ ear twitch. “Great do I bow to you,” she rasped in as loud and clear a voice as possible. “Oh greatness that is before me.”

“Oh, flattery is it?” the nagraki asked with a pleasant purr.

“I know of my wrongs, for my hunt has taken me here.”

“You don’t have to recall everything,” the nagraki grumbled, coming to stand before the huntress. “Just show me how you killed him, and I’ll let you become mine.”

“I forfeit my claim upon this prey, offering it to you as due tribute.”

“What are you talking about?” the nagraki demanded, and the huntress saw a pale handing reaching to grab her face. “You insolent little—” With a sudden, grotesque hurk, the nagraki, her hand, and her legs vanished in a mighty, upward wrench. Pitiful, muffled screams disappeared into the woods overhead, and still she didn’t dare look up. Silence followed, and she heard nothing but her own breathing and beating heart. Her skin itched anxiously, uncertain of which two fates awaited her still.

A creaking groan came from overhead, and she beheld a gnarled fist of branches and leaves reaching down. Such was its size her whole body might be crushed in its palm like a bug, every finger and jagged cut sharper than a sword’s edge. With its thumb and forefinger, it plucked at her wrapped rifle, taking it gingerly up and out of sight. She, with utmost care, moved her hands and ever kept her palms up and exposed. The creaking disappeared into the distance, leaving the clearing solemn once again.

The huntress swallowed, her mouth horribly dry.

“ _Leave_.”

Without a second thought, she sprang to her feet and turned the way hence she came. The huntress vaulted off, flying with all the speed her legs could still muster. In time, she found safety in the clearer forests where the sun still shined, and animals of all kind filled the air with liveliness.

The Greatest of Huntresses would be angered at the loss of the rifle, such was its unnamable value.

Perhaps she might be appeased, however, knowing the Heartwood have devoured a nagraki?

For now, she would yet live to see the stars at least one last time.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Interested Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) -- Curious Magi


	22. Hive Defense

_Animals and people have important common ground: their home._

*~*

Staring up at the plate-covered ceiling, Avaron focused nowhere in particular. The rib-like arrangement and crystalline growth for a ceiling lamp gave her enough to look at, really. On either side of her, two snoozing women lay, their slightly out-of-sync breathing the only thing to hear. She peeked over to Tsugumi, neatly curled up into her side, one long lilac-colored leg wrapped around her own. Her growing belly pressed into Avaron’s side, already taut and demanding of its space. Rubbing Tsugumi’s muscly, taut butt, Avaron looked over to Gwyneth, just as naked and plastered to her. Unlike Tsugumi, she laid almost belly down, sprawled out over the flesh-bed as much as Avaron.

Between the two, she was rather stuck.

_I can’t complain, but …_

Sweat trickled down her brow.

_Fuck this gets hot._

Like having two little radiators strapped to her, and they weren’t doing anything!

Ah, but they did smell so lovely. The delectable aroma of two clean, fertile _females_ , unmarred by stress. Thick as it was, her arousal surprisingly stayed quiet. Avaron’s senses certainly _perked up_ and tiny, excited tingles thrummed under her skin, but nothing unmanageable. Kind of like drinking coffee without years of adjustment to the awful taste. _I’m glad I can sleep at all,_ she mused to herself.

Although, sleep was a relative term.

The Hive continued to be active, if subconsciously. The tentaclelings out doing her gardening continued as ordered, while the perimeter ones patrolled or sat by, watching the evening forest. An awareness of what everyone was doing continued on—if she focused _just_ a bit, she’d leave her ‘sleeping body’ and start overseeing wherever she went. _Technically speaking I guess my mind can always stay awake without being exhausted?_ she wondered, squinting. _A bit like switching between computers, isn’t it?_

A pulse shot into her mind, a hardwired trigger reaction from a sentry. Her consciousness moved more than thought, perceiving the incoming information—Kagura emerged near the Hive’s border, sprinting at all due speed. Such hurry could only mean trouble, and she tracked the ninja across the clearing in front of the cave. Per her instructions, Kagura came before the tentacleling guarding the entrance.

“Summon Avaron-sama,” Kagura said with utmost urgency. “There is danger approaching.”

_It’s always something, isn’t it?_

Untangling herself from the two around her proved quite a challenge. Grumbling groans followed, Avaron shaking their shoulders. “Wake up,” she said again and again, until at least Gwyneth’s head arose and Tsugumi spied at her wearily. “We’ve got trouble up above.”

“Trouble?” Gwyneth answered first, jolting upright.

“Yeah, Kagura looks like she found something is calling for help. Let’s get dressed.”

“There will be trouble if she didn’t,” Tsugumi muttered darkly.

The three of them climbed off the flesh-bed, picking up their clothes neatly placed on the room’s only table. In dressing quickly, they stopped for a fast drink at the water cooler in the wall, then followed Avaron out. They reached the surface entrance in short order, Kagura standing by the guard tentacleling. “I’m awake,” Avaron groaned aloud, shaking her hands. “What’s the problem?”

“More of those creatures are nearby, priestess,” Kagura said, regarding Gwyneth.

“Kagr? Here?”

“A large party, carrying supplies as much as weapons. Not a true warband, maybe settlers?”

“Kagr do not settle, they _infest_.”

“Sorry, what’s a kagr?” Avaron asked, looking between the two.

“Foul creatures of a bygone age,” Gwyneth said with a grimace. “They live in the refuse beneath people. What few there are remain as scavengers. We fought many of them on the way here—twas most surprising.”

“So they have someone they’re taking orders from?”

“I cannot imagine who kagr would listen to.”

Amidst their talking, the enclosure nearby opened up, showing a fresh-faced Nuala. She looked around at the group and said, “You know then?”

“Unless there’s something other than kagr nearby?” Avaron asked.

Nuala shook her head. “No. I shall do you the kind service of taking care of them. You can go back to sleeping.”

Avaron rolled her eyes. “No, not quite. Now that we’re all here, I hope you can help me.”

Curious eyes looked at her, before looking over to the enclosure Nuala just left. The mage hurriedly shuffled away as all the sleeping tentaclelings within began crawling over the walls. Nearly two dozen of them did so, gathering before the women in three neat rows. Avaron saw her children and through them saw herself in the ever confusing if manageable intersection of senses. Nuala and Kagura, especially, seemed ill-at-ease at the sight, for how reserved their expressions were.

“Help with what, exactly?” Nuala asked tersely.

“The Hive needs combat experience, and this is a good opportunity. These ones can go in first, and all of you will be a fall back.”

“Hmph, if you wish to dirty yourselves, so be it.” Nuala waved a hand dismissively, casting her gaze to the forest ahead.

“It won’t be simple,” Tsugumi said, an uncomfortable air about her. Avaron couldn’t help looking over at her, but the inn hostess had a schooled face. Upset? Uneasy? Something bothered her, but nothing Avaron knew offered a clue.

“How do you mean?”

“How will they fight? They are so small, and have nothing but their mouths.”

“Ah, it would look like that, wouldn’t it?”

“Hm?”

The tentaclelings lifted their forelegs—a mixture of ‘front leg’ and ‘pedipalps’—and scraped the undersides together. A metallic screech sounded, somewhere between knives and swords sharpening. Everyone jumped or tensed, perhaps caught off by their synchronized movement. “There’s that, and their [Silk] capabilities. Their mouths are quite capable too, but I don’t want them eating filth if they can.” Avaron patted Tsugumi on the shoulder. “Have some faith in their capability.”

Tsugumi pursed her lips for a moment. “It is as you say.”

*~*

Large-scale coordination had been one of Avaron’s practicing points in the weeks since finding their cave home. While the tentaclelings could be trained and left with certain instruction, it left them prone to their individual instincts. One may decide a different action from another if it believed it sufficient to meet the goal set. How it arose still mystified her; they were not sapient in any capacity—sentient, to be certain. When exercising the will of the Mind in an active sense, they moved as a great flock.

Beautiful, in a way, seeing such organized climbing, leaping, and running over the uneven forest floor. One fed another what knew, what it did, how it moved, and so that behind it moved in synch. Thus the chain continued, the frontrunner leading the few. Avaron and the others trailed farther away, keeping at the edge of visibility. The deeper they went, the fouler the air became. A stench foreign to the ones she’d long filtered out carried on the wind. It reminded her of old refuse, spoiled food and other unspeakable messes that’d been left to rot. Avaron and her tentaclelings collectively sucked their mouths at the stench, trying their hardest to avoid breathing it.

“Eugh, you weren’t kidding,” Avaron grumbled. “What an awful smell.”

“Thou can smell it from here?” Gwyneth asked.

“As much as I don’t want to, yes. Can’t you?”

“Nay.”

“Lucky. Oh, there they are.”

The others looked up, eyes sharp, but only the woods remained around them.

“They are not that close,” Nuala reported, ever haughty.

“No, not to us. Up ahead, in some dug out clearing. Wow they are _ugly_. Hold on, stop, stop!” Avaron called, and the group did so. Lifting an arm, she gestured ahead. “Alright, off to that side is a path, it looks like they used it to get here. They’re in a kind of depression, so uneven fighting ground. A lot of crap on the ground, probably to make camp for a while.”

“Can you … see, how many?” Kagura asked, seeming quite perturbed.

“Just about. A few dozen, though not all armed. If we move toward that path, we’ll have a clean way of fighting them I think. Unless anyone has a better idea?” Avaron looked around, but no one seemed willing to speak up. For a bunch of people about to do a life-or-death fight, they were awfully _indifferent_ about it. _Just me then?_ she thought with a sardonic smirk, wringing her hands. “Right, let’s get into position then.”

As the women did so, Avaron’s mind focused far more upon the swarm. A few of the _kagr_ were fanning out in pairs, probably for guard duty. She wasn’t sure what to make of them, exactly. Her first instinct was ‘goblin’, and while they had the height and physique, they were quite different otherwise. Muscly bodies, sporadic fur and scales, a snout for a face that looked like a rat fucked a lizard and a dog joined in later. Functional, if hideously ugly to behold. Some had teeth growing out of their maws, blackened lips and pus-filled spittle for the obvious wounds it left.

_Disease, gotta put that one on the to-do list._

The swarm fanned out, forming a loose half-circle around the kagr encampment. Their first targets ventured down a dirt path, cutting around a tree and some large bushes the tentaclelings hid within. Snarling, gurgle-like words passed between the kagr in some semblance of language. Their posture betrayed them, if she trusted her instincts—lax, unaware, if grumbling and annoyed. _Aim carefully,_ she thought, the three tentaclelings around the kagr lifting their forelegs. Coordinating _that_ alone made her head tense with strain, a rather surprising sensation. They fired quicker than intended, blasting the kagr in viscous, white threads.

Missing their mouths Avaron had wanted to seal shut completely.

The kagr growl-snarled with alarm and surprise, entirely taken off-guard. Avaron rushed the tentaclelings in, adrenaline pumping in their bodies as much as her own. _Kill them! Silence them!_ she yelled within the Hive Mind, a flurry of six forelimbs stabbing into the trapped kagr. One gurgled as its lungs punctured, but the other let out a distressed, loud yelp. She hardly minded the vague feeling of a bladed limb skewering flesh; not that different from cutting up dead boar, really. It died with a leg right through its chest, blackish blood sputtering out, but the worst had come to pass. The encampment perked up, their scraggy ears swiveling with an alert perkiness.

Thankfully, only a few more seemed to get up and leave.

The Hive tentaclelings went back into hiding, lurking further away from their victims. _Nnn, shit. Ok, let’s just kill the other patrols while we can._

Being flanked would be a stupider mistake to make.

_Second verse, same as the first_.

Whether from the trees they walked past, bushes thick enough to hide, or just plain jumping on them, Avaron tried webbing up the kagr patrols. Between her new attempts at aiming, and the terrible reach of the silk, she never managed to hit any of their mouths. Where that failed, however, brutal stabbings sufficed as long as she got their chests or throats. _They’re so fucking noisy!_ Avaron gripped to herself, the camp becoming even more alert. More of the resting kagr had taken up arms, regarding the forest around them most wearily.

Then one saw her scout watching them, throwing a spear with a menacing heckle sound. To her startled surprise the spear landed with a solid _thunk_ into the tentacleling, piercing right through its abdomen. Screeching like a cat and a gas-pipe about to pop as it fell, the sudden _jolt_ of pain in Avaron’s mind stunned her—and all the other tentaclelings too. She clutched at her head, choking out a gagging cough loud enough to startle everyone around her.

“W-what’s wrong?!” Tsugumi demanded first, already bracing Avaron to stop her from falling.

“Y-you …!” Avaron growled out, eyes dead set forward. It took one hot minute for her to block out the pain of the dying tentacleling, an entirely new and _unwelcome_ sensation. The poor thing’s organs were skewered and the fall broken its chitin, leaving it to bleed out across the ground. One shitty little spear that just happen to have enough of a point! Avaron grit her teeth so hard they cracked—and healed just as quickly. “You _fucks!_ ”

Two words bit out in a snarl that made everyone take pause at hearing. Farther ahead, the tentaclelings echoed her in a chorus of screeching howls, so discordant and disturbing in its echo through the woods. From anger bore the fruit of focus, and the swarm moved all the more as a single whole. They fell upon the kagr camp, rushing through foliage and over dirt, forelegs at the ready, their circular maws drooling rabidly. In turn the kagr warriors, for such had to be their shoddy spears and armor, cried back with their own disgusting noise.

They rushed to meet the tentaclelings that approached from the ground. Many more, to the kagr’s surprise, ran and leapt across the tops of their crates and shoddy tents. A two-fold pincer attack, with the ground ones spewing debilitating silk, and the ones above leaping upon their prey. The first wave fell in quick order, but one of them got smart enough to raise another one of those _damnable spears_. It stuck up and skewered the tentacleling falling upon it, puncturing through from bottom-to-top.

Although not imminently fatal, the tentacleling rather couldn’t move as well, if at all.

Avaron left it there, to retreat and tend itself.

The rest pressed on, the kagr quickly growing to panic. Some tried rushing forward, barely anything but a strip of frayed cloth and their clawed fists. They, unlike the ones wielding spears and shoddy, rust-covered swords, couldn’t do anything. Their fists bounce helplessly off the chitin, and when they tried grappling by the legs, Avaron used their flexible head to rip their throats out. Thankfully the taste of whatever they were didn’t reach her in the slightest.

More of the unarmed kagr came, while those who remained cowered far behind. So long as she treated those with weapons carefully, Avaron saw victory. Little by little, she pressured them, using spat silk webbing to restrict their weapons. A few grew smart, trying to avoid having their spears or swords get stuck to the ground. Yet they remained few, for as their fellows were skewered and ripped apart around them, their flanks opened. Even if they remained mobile, they couldn’t protect their rear all the time.

As the last of the armed and desperate guards fell, gutted like fish or stabbed to death, the remaining kagr screeched frightfully. One broke, then the another, then more; in the face of death, they fled. They took the clearest path, and the one she waited for them on. Leaving the tentaclelings to kill anyone who hadn’t died fully yet, Avaron found herself back in her body. Tsugumi remained glued to her, quite concerned.

“It’s fine—I’m fine,” Avaron said, patting her arm. “The survivors are fleeing here. I’ll leave them to all of you.”

“Finally, we are done wasting our time!” Nuala said immediately, throwing up a hand so gratefully. Taking the lead, her other hand balanced her book—spellbook?—which quite surprisingly opened on its own. Page after page flipped by, settling on some obscure part Avaron couldn’t see. “If you want to train, there are better ways.”

Avaron couldn’t work through the stuck-up logic she was hearing before the kagr showed. Their fear-stricken madness pushed them barreling straight forward. Flourishing her free-hand, Nuala’s gloved fingers began sparkling with a violent crackle. Blue electricity gathered around her fingers and wrist like a snake, barely restrained. Avaron squinted at the sight, the rapid flashing quite _irritating_ to see.

“Hurry to your demise, vermin. [Leaping Lightning]!” Thrusting her hand forth, the lightning snake shot from Nuala in an instant. It struck one kagr, then another, then another, all the speed and frightful power of a true lightning strike. Avaron half-thought she could see it move through the air like some cartoon, but no; it went at lightspeed. The kagr jerked and spasmed, dropping to the ground. Those who had flammable cloth or otherwise ignited, starting small fires that ate up their bodies.

Nuala did in seconds what took her swarm minutes of fierce fighting.

_Knowing what I know, but seeing this in person, is really different, isn’t it?_ Avaron squinted and nodded. “Good. Let’s go into the camp now, it should be ours but watch for any traps.” In passing by Nuala, the mage seemed almost _expectant_ of something. For what, Avaron neither knew nor cared to find out.

They entered the camp, much of it strewn in bodies, blood, and destroyed or toppled containers. Honestly if she hadn’t known what they were before, the whole place looked no different than a crap heap. The tentaclelings moved at once from their ambient guarding, gathering into formation. Although she knew who had what damage, Avaron still inspected them herself. _Hm, so what I know does match up with what I’m seeing, alright …_

“T-this one has a spear in it!” Tsugumi called out, drawing everyone’s attention. Avaron looked over, finding Gwyneth already rushing to its side. The barely alive tentacleling sat on its side, just barely a step away from bleeding out totally. She hadn’t expected Tsugumi’s frightful eyes, looking at her dead-on for … help? An answer?

Did it matter that much?

Trotting over, Avaron called out, “Gwyneth, does your healing magic work on this?”

“Eh? Verily but this spear is in mine way.”

“Rip it out then.”

The two looked at her for a moment, then at the tentacleling. Tsugumi grabbed onto the shaft, slick with the blue blood of the tentacle. “I’ll pull, you start healing.”

“Verily, on thy count.”

“Three—two—ONE!”

“[Burning Renewal]!”

The tentacleling shrieked and kicked its legs, writhing on the ground as both spear pulled out and flames engulfed its wound. Avaron stood beside herself, treated to the unusual sight she saw, and the knowledge she _felt_ of what was going on. Beneath the fire, the wounds accelerated with supernatural speed, stitching together as fresh blood appeared from nowhere. It did hurt to the high heavens, far more than the spear that had ripped through the poor thing’s body. That they managed to restrain it so well, too, was rather disconcerting.

Her perspective on _power_ was all wrong.

The tentaclelings might be well suited to the hunting of before, but they never fought anything dangerous. Nor had they fought sapient beings, what with their weapons. Avaron’s gaze slid over to the spear discarded nearby. _In the end, they are workers,_ she mused to herself. _To fight in a war, I need warriors._

She’d been focusing too much on her at-home logistics.

If actual soldiers showed up on her door, she’d be done for.

But before then, she waved her hand. “Nuala, come here!”

The mage stepped over, rather sour in the face. “I am not some dog to be beckoned.”

“Cute. What the fuck is this?”

“A spear.”

“And kagr make a weapon of this quality?”

Nuala crouched down and stared at the weapon, her brows knitting together. Standing up, she went around the camp and picked up more spears, laying them all out in a neat comparison by Avaron. The differences became that much more apparent—some were wholly metal weapons, others ramshackle branches held together by hopes and dreams. Nuala daintily picked up one of the ‘cleaner’ metal spears, staring at the blackish iron and its uneven markings. While mostly straight, whoever had made it quite obviously was still learning their craft.

“No … not that I know of,” Nuala muttered, quite sour in the face now. “They are too stupid to make something like this.”

“Underestimating your enemy is a certain path to defeat.”

“I am not,” Nuala said with a roll of her pretty eyes. “Kagr literally are too stupid, they have no idea how to forge metal. We once tried to make them into slaves, but you could not train them to do anything. They just eat and make a mess.”

“Then something has changed,” Avaron said, looking around the camp they stood in. “Because they’re carrying metal forged gear and this looks like a supply convoy to somewhere. Obviously they are not that stupid anymore.”

Gwyneth took her moment to step in then, apparently done healing the tentacleling. A hole in its chitin is all that remained, exposing the soft flesh underneath marred with blackish burns. “Mayhaps the giant we fought is related?”

“Giant?” Avaron and Nuala said at once, their heads pivoting toward her.

Gwyneth started a bit at their unison, but nodded. In filling them both in on her encounter, Avaron grew thoughtful, while Nuala’s face darkened terribly.

“What is eating you?” Avaron asked

“There is something I need to check on. You will all be fine for today, won’t you?”  
  


“If you mean we’ll survive, yes, probably,” Avaron replied dryly.

“Good. I will return later.”

Then without any preamble, Nuala just vanished into a puff of black smoke. No words, no book, nothing. Avaron looked around superstitiously, wondrous if she’d see anything at all. _And now this? This is freaky, how do I even defend against it?_ she marveled darkly. Amidst her looking, however, she saw Tsugumi away from the camp, crouched down by a tree. A rather familiar looking tree, actually.

Avaron headed over, Gwyneth following behind her. The nearer she came, the more Avaron saw Tsugumi’s expression. In all their time together, she’d never seen such a look—that of someone caught by an incredible event. A sight that couldn’t be believed, or worse, their mind unable to understand. She’d seen it the most second hand, and it had been so long since it appeared in person. Avaron clapped Tsugumi on the shoulder when she crouched down next to her, startling the woman. “What’s on your mind?”

They looked at each other—Avaron ever struggling to figure which of Tsugumi’s eyes to look into.

“It’s … I do not know how to say it.” Tsugumi looked down, then dragged her eyes forward. Together they beheld the dead body of the scout tentacleling, curled up on its back like any dead spider might. “I’m sad, and I know I’m sad, but I … I should be crying right now, right?”

_This is a lot more than a dead tentacle isn’t it?_ Avaron made a show of humming thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t be unreasonable, but you don’t have to do it _right now_ , you know.”

“… Shouldn’t I?”

“Tsu—”

“I raised them, you know,” Tsugumi said, not at all looking at Avaron. “In my belly, then on my breast. And I taught them how to hunt, and how to make their webs, and …” Her face scrunched up, the bitterness of someone holding back. “It’s just—” Pulling Tsugumi into her, Avaron did her best to give her somewhere to bury her face. Thankfully Tsugumi took the offering, burrowing her face into Avaron’s neck and wrapping her arms around the tentradom.

Avaron, for all the answers she held, couldn’t think of a way to use them. She’d done more than one round of using the ‘correct answer’ and having that blow up in her face. For want an idea that might work, she rubbed Tsugumi’s back, looking pensive. Gwyneth hovered nearby, anxious and uncertain what to do, hands fidgeting together.

“Why not make a shrine?” the priestess asked, sounding quite hesitant.

“A … shrine?” Avaron puzzled, looking at her.

“Verily! For all the ones who died, and those who live. Tis good to rest the soul with prayer.”

Tsugumi muttered something into Avaron’s chest, too muffled to be heard very far. She, however, didn’t miss. The tentradom’s eyes narrowed in thought.

_“I can’t tell them apart”. She isn’t wrong …_

Every tentacleling was a clone of the other, save for whatever little scars they acquired on the way. She knew each and every one, but only because of the [Hive Mind]. For the mothers who birthed them, they would be a faceless legion. That served well for the endless swarm she needed.

But what of the mothers and their feelings?

The thought never crossed her mind—once they agreed to breed, then they knew what they were in for. Yet the story didn’t end there, and she’d neglected to do the caring that was needed. Avaron sighed, staring up at the trees and sky above. “Alright, we’ll make a shrine. For the dead and the living.”

“Oh? Oh!” Gwyneth smiled and nodded. “Yes! Mine Flame may help to sanctify it, too.”

_I don’t even want to get into what the fuck that means right now._ Avaron made an agreeing noise. “There is something else, though. About the younglings and me that you both should know.”

That made Tsugumi pull away, her darkened and puffy face furrowed with dubious curiosity. Gwyneth ever remained hard to read, half her face hidden by a visor. Avaron scratched the back of her head, squinting. “I’m not sure how to explain it easily. I don’t suppose either of you know what a collective consciousness is?”

“I know what consciousness is?” Gwyneth said, curling a hand under her chin. “But collective? As in, many consciousness together?”

“Yes. Many consciousness together, regardless of their bodies. It would be like if our minds were together, and we heard each other’s thoughts, knew each other’s memories.”

“I understand, but what for?” Tsugumi said, still suspiciously confused looking.

“This little one—” Avaron tentatively gestured to the corpse, “—is, well, alive. Within the [Hive Mind], all its memories, thoughts, experiences … the things that make someone, someone. The body is gone, but the mind still lives.”

“T-then I cry for nothing?” Tsugumi asked, her cheeks puffing up in an anger that made even Avaron sweat nervously.

“S-she’s really happy you did!” Avaron chittered nervously, trying to smile reassuringly. “The one who bore her caring so much, it is something she—all of them—felt. Even if, well, it does not seem that obvious.”

“Hmm.” Their eyes stared for a long moment until Tsugumi huffed and planted her face back. “A shrine, then,” she mumbled, if intelligible this time. “And we’ll bury her all the same.”

“… Alright. I’m, uhh, not sure how we’re going to build it, though.”

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.??) – Interested Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) -- Curious Magi


	23. Regicide

_No death is more celebrated than a tyrant’s._

*~*

“So I am a bit confused about some things,” Avaron said, drawing Tsugumi’s and Gwyneth’s attention. Nuala, sitting in her corner of the enclosure, also seemed to take note. Or, at least, her ears twitched a little; her eyes stayed glued to that book.

“What about?” Gwyneth asked first.

“The skills, abilities, and this whole leveling thing … How does it work, per say?” Even as Avaron asked, the three other women—Nuala too—looked at her as if she was insane. Which was especially remarkable when Gwyneth was concerned. “What?”

“You do not know?” Tsugumi asked like a person walking on eggs.

“I have an idea,” Avaron said with a shrug. “My skillset is really different so I’m not sure where I fit compared to you three, for example.”

“Oh, that is true …”

“For example, people have [Skills] and [Abilities], but what are the differences?”

“A [Skill] is something you acquire through effort,” Nuala said, shutting her book with a thump. “An [Ability] is a natural talent, be it your blood or otherwise.”

“So no amount of work could make someone acquire a new [Ability]? Or copy someone else’s?”

“There are some [Skills] that are close to what [Abilities] can do. There are those that are completely impossible to imitate.”

Avaron pursed her lips, hands folded together in front of her face thoughtfully. Her head tilted to the side. “Okay, I’m getting that. And [Skills] cannot pass down to one’s children?”

“Not in most situations,” Nuala said, sitting up straight. Tsugumi and Gwyneth, meanwhile, seemed content to sit back and observe. “It isn’t known how [Skills] are passed down through the bloodlines. Some have said the oldest of [Abilities] started off as [Skills].” She did that polite, barely-moving-her-shoulders shrug that was damn hard to see. “I have known a few, desperate souls to pass on their [Skills] try all manner of methods. Not one has worked.”

_Is it a genetic component or something else?_ Avaron wondered. _I know Tsugumi’s drones inherited some of her [Abilities], like [Silk] … I thought that was a [Skill] but apparently not. Or maybe it’s the base [Ability] but she has a [Skill] that changes it?_ Her eyes squinted. _These brackets are annoying to think about._ Nodding to herself, she said, “And [Spells] are just … learned [Skills] that work with magic?”

“It is frightening what passes through that hole you call a mind,” Nuala remarked dryly. Two pointed gazes snapped toward her—one hidden behind a visor—but she showed no sign of caring.

“No less incredible that your tongue is still in your mouth,” Avaron shot back, just as dry. Nuala recoiled slightly, as if utterly unexpecting the quip. “I get your idea about the Words of Power and ‘true magic’ and all that crap. Somewhere between that and [Skills] is [Spells], and I’m trying to figure that out.”

“It entirely depends on _which set_ of magic we speak about,” Nuala said, nose lifted daintily upward. “Most as passed on as simple knowledge and theory, some work on rigorous physical training to ingrain a few specific [Spells]. Others are even more polluted in their convoluted attempts I can’t begin imagining.”

_‘Knowledge and theory’. Then, once the Hive Mind becomes aware of this magic, we’re able to use it?_ As much as she wouldn’t say it aloud, Nuala was right. To know more about magic, she needed to learn specific kinds, top-to-bottom. Avaron pursed and wiggled her lips, feeling annoyed. “Alright, so let me guess here real quick. Gwyneth, your magic requires faith in your Flame, right?”

“T-that is, ehm, a part, yes!” Gwyneth chirped at suddenly be called out.

“And whatever you have was from your life adventuring, right?” Avaron asked, staring at Tsugumi.

“It is. Do you mean to learn magic from us?”

“The ivory tower over there wouldn’t be that illuminating, so, yes. It is definitely one of those things I need to get a grip on.”

“What is this ivory tower you speak of, looking at me?” Nuala demanded.

“What you seek is not easy to find,” Kagura’s voice cut in from above, making them all jump. The ninja, somehow, had a comfortable seat on a stump-of-a-rock jutting out from the cliff. “Nor easy to hold onto once found.”

“Doesn’t your ass hurt sitting like that?” Avaron asked, but the ninja merely looked away—ostensibly surveying their surroundings once again. “Alright, fine, whatever. You’re not wrong! Still something I gotta do, somehow.”

“Why?” Gwyneth, straightening up on her seat, perked with interest.

“See if I have any talent for it. Or if these girls can learn it,” Avaron said, jerking a thumb at some of the hibernating tentaclelings. “The real plan I have is for—”

A blaring horn, one awfully familiar in its sound, blasted the air and made them all wince. Avaron fingered her ear, looking up at Kagura. “Aren’t you supposed to warn us of people coming?”

“I guard against danger. They hold no killing intent.”

_Oh no, just hide your killing intent then stab me with a shiv or something._ Avaron rolled her eyes before watching Nuala stand up and head out of the enclosure. Clapping her hands to her knees, she too stood up. “Well, let’s go greet the elvetahn. Or whoever has their horn.”

They all ended up gathering outside the enclosure, watching as the elvetahn caravan came out of the forest. Whether the same people or not, they did take up the same spots around the under-construction inn. Tents popped up, crates unloaded from deer, and the forest people setup with an energetic air about them. Nuala hardly waited with everyone else, strutting off toward the approaching deer. Familiar guards surrounded an ever more familiar queen, Efval clad in glimmering armor. It did well to protect her from head-to-toe, ever as form-fitting yet unflattering as all others.

“Kagura, it’s best if—”

“I am right here.”

“Fuck!” Avaron jumped at the sudden voice from beside her, the ninja already at attention. “You’re going to need to wear a damn bell if you keep doing that.”

The ninja, for her part, seemed bemused at the idea.

“Oh, reminding me—” Avaron looked over to Gwyneth, “—long story short, Nuala is … something. I think she’s a noble but I’m not too sure. That one over there in the center is the elvetahn queen, though.”

“Noble? Queen?” Gwyneth did a double take. “Wait, Her Majesty _Gladestride_?”

“Wonderful, you know her already.”

“I—I cannot just _meet_ her!” Gwyneth sputtered out. “I am not proper!”

“I hope we’re past that with her because if you think me and Tsugumi just had these nice dresses; hoo, ho ho, oh no.”

“What does that mean?!”

Whatever else might be said laid to rest as Queen Efval, her escort, and Nuala pulled up. While she wasn’t radiating the flesh-flaying disgruntlement of their first meeting, Avaron found the queen’s gaze rather cool all the same. Bowing her head, she said, “Greetings, your majesty.”

“Hm. A Kitinchi shinobi and a Flame priestess now, is it?” Efval asked, the aforementioned women bowing full-bodily. “What strange company you have now.”

“In fairness, I know the priestess,” Avaron said, then pointed toward Kagura. “She’s new.”

“Is that so? And why are you here, shinobi?”

“In due respect, Queen Efval, at the behest of Lord Honda.”

“And why has Honda sent you here?”

“… To pass messages between himself and the divine heroine.”

Nuala seemed surprised at that, doing a doubletake and looking between Kagura and Avaron. Efval, meanwhile, pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Understanding that the heroine falls under my purview, I hope Honda does not mean to offend me.”

Kagura shook her head. “He does not, Queen Efval. I know my Lord to wish to speak with you in the future; of what, I know not.”

“He is ever punctual.” Turning to regard Gwyneth, Efval’s gaze did harden, much to Avaron’s concern. “As to a Flame priestess being within my lands … I wonder if you understand the offense that has done.”

“M-mine understanding is mostly clear, Your Majesty,” Gwyneth returned, admirably skipping a beat once but holding a strong voice. “Proper as it is, mine followership of the Order doth wane.”

“The Flame does not rest on the bosom of one who seeks to renounce it.”

Gwyneth nodded agreeingly. “Not renounce the Flame, but the Order. They hath strayed from the path, and mine Flame shows me where to go.”

“Oh? The Order strays enough the Flame has come to scorn it?” Efval said, mirth bubbling up until a cold laugh broke out. Earnestly joyful if frigid in the haughty pleasure one must feel indulging in such a display. “Fate truly is funny!”

Gwyneth said nothing, for however gloomy her aura became. A darkness the kind of which made Avaron speak up. “I should take it as a personal favor,” she said, flashing a smile, “if Gwyneth’s presence with me wouldn’t be a problem.”

Efval’s laugh ended in an instant, her face coming back to its perfectly practiced look. “I shall set it aside, for now. I doubt you understand slightly the depth of what you say.” Pulling the reins of her deer, Efval turned back to the caravan, her guard following after. “Come to me at dusk, there will be much to speak of.”

“As you say.”

*~*

Arzha, lips pursed, sat on the splendid couch, elbow on the armrest, head on her hand. It’d been weeks since she’d been in the royal palace and the air had changed terribly. At its surface nothing looked out of place, but the servants walked tensely, and armed guards were posted everywhere. Much of the artwork, statues, and once-displayed jewels had been taken down, sequestered in the castle vault. One might have thought the walls always barren if they didn’t know. Indeed, the waiting room itself had been stripped down to its barest bones, hardly befitting servants, let alone nobles.

_He finally acknowledges the war that is coming,_ she mused, the thought so disturbingly light in her mind. That her father had summoned her so suddenly was itself a-typical. He hadn’t wrote to her with such urgency in years, forget the current problems. _Maybe he finally came to his senses?_

Hardly. Some hairbrained scheme awaited her.

A knock came at the door, and it cracked open slightly. Dutiful Haleen leaned through, her face concerningly cross.

“My lady, you have … visitors.”

“Who?” Arzha asked lightly, her gaze sliding over as the rest of her face remained static.

“Some of the divine heroines.”

Not her father, not her brother, nor even the Church properly.

Divine heroines?

“Let them in,” Arzha said, watching as the door swung open fully. Five _children_ walked into her waiting room, hardly befitting of being called a heroine. They were all between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, adults enough but still baby-faced and sparkling eyed. Surprisingly they weren’t the ones she expected; four boys and one girl, none of which she’d seen before. They were all dressed in the acolyte robes of the Church, the white-and-gray attire with its black highlight rather distinct to see. Although entering the room, they stopped short of the two couches, staring at her uneasily.

_Not even a proper greeting. What does that Church teach them?_ Arzha wondered, slowly lifting her palm in gesture toward the other couch. “Sit.” At least they listened well enough. Five people were a bit much to squeeze onto the couch, but they seemed fine doing so. “Why are you here?”

They looked at each other for a moment, silently nominating the boy at the far end of the couch with their gazes. Narrow-eyed and wearing glasses, his face was not one found in Artor, or any land she knew of. Perhaps he had elvetahn blood in him somewhere, if he had been born on her world.

“Respectfully, princess Arzha,” he said, quite articulate it turned out. “We are hoping you could help us.”

“Does the Church not do enough?”

“They have hosted us well, but …”

Articulate, but uneasy. A strict lack of confidence, really. “Wasting my time is far worse than speaking your mind,” she said coolly, pulling herself upright. Throwing one pants-covered leg over the other and folding her hands together atop her knee, she regarded them with all the strictness befitting a princess.

“R-right,” he sputtered out, pushing his glasses with a finger. “It is just, we are not told much about what is going on. We hear rumors of war approaching, and the Church does not say for what duty we were … summoned, for.”

“And so you are kept in the dark, waiting.”

“Yes, exactly!” one of the other boys exclaimed immediately, only to shrink back beneath Arzha’s glacial gaze.

“So you come to me. I thought the Church did not allow that?”

“That was always—well, it seemed …” Glasses tried to say something, his mouth slower than his brain. He coughed into his hand rather quick. “Despite what the priestess has said, the people of these lands speak highly of you, princess Arzha. A bad ruler would not have such admiration.”

How unexpected, but not unwelcome. Arzha tilted her head for a moment. “Peasants admire strength and safety, both I provide in excess. It would be poor to judge me on those alone, would it not?”

Glasses seemed caught off-guard by that, his brow furrowing as the others looked between them. “Perhaps, but it-it is much better than to hear worse.”

With some training he might hold a passable conversation one day. Arzha waved off his words with a hand. “Very well. What do you want from me?”

“The truth, if possible. What is going on? Why are we here? In this world, that is.”

“One woman’s truth is another’s heresy. The Church will be most punishing if you speak of this to them.”

“I …” Glasses looked to his fellows, and they gradually came to a begrudging, if worried, nodding unison. “There is no harm in hearing it, surely?”

_How naïve_. Arzha couldn’t help the tiny smile etching across her lips, one that made the heroines stiffen up before her. “We will see. To save myself the trouble, I shall tell you forthright, then. Artor is on the brink of war with all its neighbors, we only lack the declarations now.”

Their faces fell dark and grim as Glasses said, “Why is that?”

“Because of you.” Arzha waved her hand in a simple sweeping gesture. “You heroines are the spark to this linen-stacked fire. To understand that, you will need to know why heroines are so important in this world.”

“The Church—” one of them started to speak, his words dying the instant her gaze cut into him.

“I know not what they said nor do I care. The Church hides behind scripture like a pauper’s smile.” Arzha waited, and satisfied none of them dared speak up, started again. “Heroines are many in this world, great people entrusted to do heroic deeds. Divine heroines are different—you are direct vessels of the Goddesses’ divine power. This manifests many ways, from your talents to your skills, abilities, physical power, and more. Tell me, what level are you all now?”

“Erm …” Seeing that his comrades nodded, Glasses said, “Around level 5, some near 6.”

_Incredible._ Arzha hid her surprise behind a scowl. “There it is. Years of training, hard work, and near death experiences, and you reached it doing almost nothing. That is the true power of divine heroines, their frightening ability: you grow in strength by leaps unimaginable.”

“Ano, um,” the girl, once quiet, spoke up, “Is it, though? What level are you?”

Twas no secret, so if the Church had sent them to spy, their questions were worthless. “I am level 22, and I am the strongest in the entirety of this kingdom. Indeed, I stand above many of our neighbors as well.”

“That—it’s only … 17, levels apart isn’t it?” Glasses said, holding his chin in thought. “Is it not too small?”

“I have not the slightest inclination why you think that. Each level is born from hardship; some are faster, some are slower. To you it may seem—it may _be_ , a small gap to cross.” Arzha smiled, the frigid frost of her aura undercutting it. “To us, it is a lifetime of meritorious achievement.”

Glasses bowed, hands on his knee, head low. “I meant no offense, princess. Forgive my runaway thoughts.”

“It is said. Now that you know the power of divine heroines, you may yet understand why our neighbors are utmost furious. In the past, scarcely four would be summoned to surmount the greatest calamities.” Arzha shifted her legs, putting the other on top this time. “There are five before me, and thirteen were summoned in total. Our whole world has been thrown upside down.”

“… Thirteen?” the loud-mouth brat beside Glasses asked. “But there’s only twelve of us?”

That was strange to hear. “Did you not see the … no, you must have. The guards pulled her away immediately.”

“Oh, that!” The brat clapped a fist into his hand. “That was just a monster. It happens sometimes in … summoning magic …” His words died beneath the heart-piercing glare Arzha almost killed him with.

“You speak as a puppet for the Church with how convinced you are. Summoning magic does not exist—the ritual to summon heroines is a lengthy, long process. Not once has there been a mistake.”

“Then, umm, who was she?” the girl asked nervously.

“The thirteenth heroine, and the first _monja_ to ever be summoned. I know such for I made certain of her divine nature myself.”

“Why would the Church lie about her?” Glasses asked.

The briefest thought of trying to explain what a _tentradom_ was gave Arzha pause. _No, not that. Rather …_ Arzha held up a hand in a polite, noble expression of shrugging. “The Church despises monja utterly. They view humans as the one true people, destined to inherit the world. A monja heroine would undermine their entire belief.”

“That …” The brat and his fellows looked amongst themselves, _very_ uncomfortable. “They’re people too, aren’t they?”

“Who?”

“The, uh, monja.”

Arzha regarded him, finding that despite his uncertainty he did not back down as before. “Indeed. There are many lands, despite the Church’s influence, that continues respecting its monja peoples. Make no mistake, if the Church had its way, they would see every monja dead however possible. It was this detail that, in fact, led to the schism between the Order and the Church.”

“Sorry, what Order?” Glasses asked, perking up.

“Yet again they lie by omission.” Arzha sighed, rubbing her temple with her gloved hand. “The Order of the Eternal Flame, an ancient religion that is often believed the source of all peoples—human or monja. It is from the Flame that the first creations were made, and so civilization followed. I do not remember much beyond that, but the schism is well known.” At seeing their expectant stares, Arzha felt an inkling of familiarity. It was, once upon a time, a look many of her Snowflake knights gave her.

_I’m too young to be nostalgic yet,_ she griped before composing herself. Coughing into her hand, Arzha folded them together upon her knee once more. “The Church’s founder, Mikhail Altman, professed divine guidance, a power greater than the Flame. He claimed to foresee a perfect world, ones destined for humans alone.”

“That is the, uh, Everlasting Light?” the girl asked, perking up.

“So I presume. I have not deigned to read their scriptures beyond Altman’s bizarre fever dream.”

“Is—is it that strange?” Glasses pondered aloud. “There are goddesses in this world, after all.”

“I know not how it is within your world, but in mine, the divine do not bother hiding themselves. For all their prayer, ritual, and faith, no being apart of their ‘light’ has ever made itself known as all others have. Were it not for their continent-spanning size, they would be an insane gathering otherwise.”

“Uhh, are they really that bad?” one of the boys who had yet to speak, spoke. “The priestesses did help with the homeless …”

“Were any of them monja?” The longer the question hung in the air, the more uncomfortable the heroines grew. “Is that not an answer in itself? Even a—”

Her words disappeared beneath the sudden banging coming from the door. Arzha shot her gaze over as Haleen peeked through, flushed red and panting from exertion. “M-my lady!”

“Speak.”

“His, his majesty comes! He is most furious and followed by the Royal Guard!”

_What?_ Arzha marveled, the thought catching her off-guard. _Why would be with the guard?_ Nonetheless gesturing to open the door, she said, “I see. Let us greet the King, then.”

It did not take long for the thunder of approaching boots and the rattling of plate armor. Haleen stood by the now fully opened double doors, King Fornard standing at the threshold as a giant with his regalia. Arzha rose up, as did the heroines, but none of them had a chance to bow as he stormed into the room. “There you are!” he said, whatever relief in his voice buried beneath the raw energy. “Arzha, you must come quickly.”

“What has happened?”

“It—” his gaze crept to the heroines nearby, “—It is not a matter for the Church to hear. Come, quickly.”

“Haleen, see that our guests leave properly.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

And so Arzha left with her father, the King, keeping pace with his incredible steps as the two sped through the royal palace. The guard followed behind, unbothered by the hustle in their heavy armor. “What is it, Father?”

“Your brother—what an utter fool! A maddening, stupid, insolent child!” Fornard raged, his clenching hands and flushed face the lividest Arzha had seen in years. “I must have left my senses thinking to trust him at all!”

As pleased as she was to hear that, Arzha couldn’t help worry about _why_. “I do not understand, what has Samuel done?”

“He slew the King of Gebenheim at the meeting!”

Arzha nearly choked on her tongue at hearing the words. “He did what?”

“Exactly so!” Fornard roared. Not a guard nor servant dared stand in their way, heading toward the throne room now that Arzha recognized their direction. “He has fled back to Artor yet dares not come home? The Gebenheim queen is beyond furious; their army is mustering to march as we speak.”

_This is it,_ Arzha realized, almost out of her own body at the thought. Gebenheim would invade in justified retribution, and every other nation would not wait to ally under such a cause. Worse, to break tradition of sanctity upon such tense meetings was amongst the greatest dishonors imaginable. It was, in every sense, a perfect _casus belli_. The political jockeying had come to an end in an instant all thanks to Samuel.

But they weren’t ready.

She had barely started building the guns Avaron’s blueprints told how to.

Arzha scowled and grit her teeth. “I’ll kill him myself, I swear.”

Fornard said nothing, his visage dark and terrible. “Even those we might have convinced stay their hand now ready as well. Every side, Arzha. We are being attacked from every side.”

_Now you see._

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.5) – Devout Cum Slut

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.22) – Interested Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) -- Curious Magi


	25. National Business

_The business of nations is a microcosm of the nation itself._

*~*

Queen Efval’s tent was, much like the last time Avaron had been in it, surprisingly samely. Some of the crates had been moved around, and a modest table laid out beside the central rug this time. Spying at the semi-naked serving women, none of them met her gaze, moving with a purpose as they worked. Standing before the reclining queen, she met the cool eyes that’d followed her the whole way. It was almost impressive how such a warm mahogany color could come off as frigid and icy.

Yet, not hostile per say.

“Your weapon has served well,” Efval stated simply, all the voice of a leader who had to acknowledge something distasteful.

“I cannot take all the credit, but it is good to hear.”

“Hm. With it and your ‘sniper doctrine’, as you say it was, the Empire’s army was routed quickly. Their general and his co-leaders were even killed, a monumental change in this war.”

“You do not sound as happy as I’d expect.”

“Were it only humans and monja we still dealt with, I’d have a mind to celebrate.”

_An unwanted development, is it?_ Avaron curled a hand under her chin thoughtfully. “What do you mean?” Efval motioned a nearby servant with her hand, and Avaron saw them approach, handing a large rolled up scroll. In unfurling it, she was surprised to see it was a map. It displayed the many lands around the Alva Forest, one meant to track nations and their borders than geological features. Taking in the _highly valuable_ layout it presented, she said, “Alright, I’m seeing a bunch of countries here …”

“Now compare it to the other one.”

Another servant came, and exchanging maps, Avaron saw a stark difference. The empire, once of a decent size in the southwest, exploded across a number of territories. Virtually all its neighbors had been consumed, and several conflict markers indicated what had to be ongoing wars elsewhere. The general trend had it move west and north, keeping its borders on the east face rather stable. _One cannot fight two fronts easily,_ Avaron mused and nodded. “The empire expanded quite aggressively, I see.”

“All in the span of four years.”

“I take it that is unusual.”

“Beyond a doubt. That much territory that quickly often leads to instability, then infighting and collapse. Those who seek to rule by conquest often over stretch—that the Empire had not concerned me greatly. I thought it to be the work of guns, but I know now that was only a small part of it.”

“Mm. Don’t like that. What did you find out?”

“A Nagraki Highborn was accompanying the Empire’s general.”

“That’s a new name to me.”

“Unsurprisingly. The nagraki had been, until now, dead for over half of a millennium. I’d thought all their wretched kind gone for good.”

“What’s the significance of it, then?”

“Speak to Nuala about the history of it. But for my concern, the nagraki are old enemies of all good and decent peoples. They delve into vile magic and arcana, abusing life for personal power. That alone is problematic, but worse is their faithful devotion to _Haska_ , their evil god.”

“I’m getting the feeling this means they have to be a pervasive, in-the-shadows type of secret cult. You know, manipulating everything for their own end.”

Efval’s brow ticked upward, a fleeting look passing over her face. “That is the heart of the matter, yes. It would explain the Empire’s sudden and unusual change of behavior, as well as the worsening tensions in the lands. Humans and monja do not have the lives and memories of we elvetahn. They would forget the enemy, and so fall prey to the nagraki’s long-lived planning.”

“Convenient explanations are an easy trap to fall into,” Avaron said warningly. “It definitively proves their influence in the Empire. Becoming paranoid over every shadow wouldn’t do.”

“It is not unusual of them to do so.” Efval waved her hand dismissively. “That I now know they still live, however—the time comes for we elvetahn to stand up once again.”

Avaron’s brow furrowed. “You mean, leaving the Alva Forest?”

“And more.”

“Hmm …”

“You seem unimpressed by the idea.”

“It’s too obvious.”

“What is?”

“The once-reclusive elvetahn suddenly leaving their forest. It makes sense if you do so to attack the Empire—everyone would expect it. If you start branching out into other countries, however … They won’t care for your noble reasoning, they’ll see it as an excuse to attack them.” Avaron spread her hands in a shrug. “If I was a secret cult controlling things, it’d be an easy excuse to turn everyone against you.”

“You—” Efval paused, her face contorting with the mildest of sour expressions. Falling back into her pillowy throne, she tapped a finger against her lips, staring off into nowhere in particular. Such an elegant sight proved a little exciting, the queen’s sharp beauty and raw sensual, nearly-naked body teasing Avaron’s eyes. “It is not wrong, now that I think of it that way. The other peoples are too forgetful to honor the old ways.”

“I’ve opinions about that, but I’ll bide my tongue.”

“Do not be coy,” Efval said, the ease of her voice lining the sharpness of her words. “It dulls the mind and I care not for it.”

_She stands on ceremony as much as she beats people with it,_ Avaron thought, exasperated. Shaking her head, she sighed and said, “Small, elite teams of people spread across the lands would do better. The problem will be figuring out which part is native politics, and which is nagraki influence. Without knowing their goals, we’re shooting arrows blindly and hoping one hits.”

“What archer cannot shoot blind and hit?” Efval asked dubiously.

“Most of them, it turns out.”

“They are poorly trained, then.”

“That is … missing the point.”

“Your point is understood, the archers are not. How would you diffuse these ‘native politics’ and nagraki influence?”

Avaron scratched the back of her head. “I’m not sure, every land is different. If you can work with the powers in the region, and gain their help, it may expose the nagraki. It might also expose your own investigation and send them into hiding again.”

“Nagraki are the most difficult of prey,” Efval said in a voice that belied agreement. “I shall take your words into consideration. Others will be handling them for the time being.”

It sounded like a dismissal but Efval made no motions to do so. Avaron straightened up a bit, bouncing on her feet. “Ah, well then, is that all, Queen Efval?”

“No. Nuala tells me that Lord Honda has made contact with you.”

A statement that brokered an explanation without question. Avaron narrowed her eyes a touch at the tone. “It is as you heard. For what he wants, I have no idea. His ambassador, or whatever, is apparently coming to me.”

“Hm. The quiet land stirring, how interesting.”

“He apparently means to also contact you, though I do not know what for.”

“… Is that so?” Efval mumbled, brow furrowing in thought. “You will keep me informed of what he wants.”

“As much as is reasonable to do so.”

They shared a look, the queen demanding utmost more in a response, and Avaron giving her the stonewall. Whether she thought it worth bothering over or not, Efval blinked first. “Hm. Have you made any tora silk yet?”

“Oh, that? It’s getting there. Tsugumi should be speaking with the weavers that came with you about the first batch. I’ll be honest, it’s not that great, we’re still figuring out some problems.”

“Hm. I am expecting better in the future. My seamstresses will need the finest quality to fashion my Spring Renewal dress.”

_Nobility_. Avaron hid her rolling eyes by bowing her head. “I understand. I cannot promise an exact timeline, but things are moving well considering we are starting from nothing at all.”

“So you say. Leave me then.”

Avaron did, all too glad to finally have an excuse to be done. _Ahh, she’s easy on the eyes but no matter how beautiful the viper,_ she groused to herself. _I can see why Tahn had so much trouble getting her married. If she is still even going to bother with that idea after all of this. She’d eat Tsugumi and Gwyneth alive if they were left in the same room together._ Now if she could get her to eat them _out_ , that’d make life way more fun. Yet for as much as she enjoyed that picture, a dark shadow hung in Avaron’s mind.

_Haska’s servants … I didn’t expect to pick up their trail this soon. Where in the world did they find out about flintlocks? He knows nothing of them, yet the Empire is already brimming with firepower. Hmm. It’s not surprising an empire got corrupted so easily, but this picture isn’t lining up no matter how I frame it._

*~*

“Nuala.”

Stepping out of the shadows, the mage came before Queen Efval, kneeling on the carpet. “Your Majesty.”

Efval waved her hand and the servants filed out of the queen’s tent, leaving just the two of them. “Continue with your recounting.”

“That is …” Nuala had to think a moment where, exactly, she’d left off. After Tsugumi’s breeding, but before Gwyneth’s? Ah, right, the kagr confrontation. Starting from the beginning, she recounted her knowledge of it, Efval sitting by with attentively perked ears. The queen suspected some details were being _omitted_ , chiefly around the more _carnal activities_. She cared not for such, no matter how long it took Nuala to tip toe around the details. “… which concludes what I know.”

“I see.” Efval tapped her cheek with a finger, lost in thought for a moment. “Then nothing she does aligns with tentradoms as we know.”

Nuala shook her head agreeingly. “If I had not known, I would regard them as two utterly separate ideas. Her penchant for … women, is markedly different enough that I have no idea what to expect.”

“A thrilling prospect for you, I have no doubt,” Efval remarked dryly. Nuala, unsurprisingly, had no decency to be caught off by such unsavory words.

“She knows so much, it leaves me in awe,” Nuala gushed out, clutching her face with her hands. “Just the other day, she muttered to herself about ‘ecological architecture’, which I have deciphered to mean shaping of the land. She means to do work that the druids themselves hold in secrecy!”

“You cannot allow her to do so freely,” Efval cut in sharply, her glare making Nuala recoil. “I will not let a tentradom grow as it wants into _my forest_.”

“T-t-that is the thing, Your Majesty!” Nuala hurriedly waved her hands, punctuating her words. “She does not mean to grow into the forest, but _underneath_. The rock and dirt, but also the mountain overhead—she will not bother the forest at all!”

“And how do you know this?”

“Her thankful penchant for muttering under her breath.” Nuala smirked and tapped the side of her head. “She talks to herself often when alone, and it is easy to overhear what she thinks.”

“And you believe she isn’t doing that on purpose?”

  
“Eh?”

Efval sighed, taking a moment to rub her eyes. “If she knows she is being watched, she would speak lies to throw off the listener.”

“Certainly, but I do not believe she is! I have detected no magic that would possibly learn of me—”

“And you are certain there is no special talents a tentradom might have? Some _magical sensitivity_?”

Nuala’s rapid-fire mouth clicked shut.

“Lest you forget, a Flame priestess is now in her thrall. One sanctified by the Flame itself, no less. Continue your observations but take everything you learn like a leaf plucked out of the air. She is not so simple.”

Nuala bowed her head slowly, her face all-too-sour. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

_This stubborn splinter,_ Efval thought dryly, regarding Nuala and her unhappy atmosphere. “It is unlike you to be captivated like this. Why does she fascinate you so?”

“… Surely Your Majesty understands, my purpose is knowledge.”

“Have I not warned your flippant nature to plunge into the unknown will cost you? No, more to the point, it will cost me and my forest greatly.”

“It is why I proceed with all due caution, Your Majesty. All I do is so our people may learn more.”

“Not everything is worth learning.”

“Your Majesty understands if I disagree,” Nuala said, sweet in the airs but frigidly stern beneath.

Efval let out one long, heaving sigh. “You have ever been inscrutable since we were saplings. Everyone else followed the Paths, but Nuala stayed behind, reading her books. It would be much to our benefit later, of course.” Sitting up, the queen propped her elbows on her knees, balancing her head on her hands. That her bosom fell between them, tempting as fruits hanging from a branch, no one was around to appreciate. “But the path you walk is a lonely one, Nuala. Knowledge will give you no comfort in the final hours.”

A dry chuckle filled the air, Nuala righting up into a more relaxed, _improper_ stand before the queen. “So you warned me, when you left to become a Huntress. But you understand, don’t you? What drove you to become the greatest of huntresses, drives me to be the greatest of magi.”

“To become queen was a far more reachable branch than what you aspire toward,” Efval returned, fair voice flat with self-aware obviousness.

“One day I’ll be the one everyone stares up to see,” Nuala said, smiling within her shadow-casting hood. “What greater pride, than being the tree that gives us all shade under her branches?”

“Even with all you have done so far?”

“The Empire has proven how pointless those accomplishments were.” Both their faces soured at the mention, the conversational air turning a touch fetid. Nuala spoke up first, “These new _rifles_ and _guns_ have bought us time, but it is not through my own effort. There is still so much more I need to learn, and that tentradom is a vault of secrets waiting for me.”

“It leaves me uneasy, for however much more of a _person_ than an _abomination_ she might seem. I do not want to be the one to chop you down like all the others who fell prey.”

“If I can learn just one thing that assures our survival, then it is good I am the one to pay the price.” Nuala smiled, a look between rueful and bitter. “I could never ask another to do so in my stead.”

“You speak ill of me for having you do so.”

“No. I admire your strength as I always have. The burden of leading has not bowed your trunk at all.”

“Were it left unscarred,” Efval said, not quite staring at Nuala anymore. “I might have a husband by now. Or a wife, for however hilariously problematic that would be.”

“I cannot help but wonder again at Tahn’s thinking,” Nuala remarked, rubbing the back of her head. “He is not stupid of what is happening.”

“No, but Father’s notions of fixing something has been out of touch with common sense for many centuries. I am hopeful a year or two may change his erratic mind enough to abolish the marriage.”

“If it does not?”

“Then I may have to ask Mother.” They both grimaced, a fleeting look of terror entering their eyes at Efval’s own words.

“But if she decides it is funny enough to support …”

“Then I am afraid we both may end up the seedbed of a tentradom’s garden.”

“Hey—what do you mean both of us?” Nuala asked, chirpy in tone as much as offended. A cool pair of mahogany eyes came to regard her, staring with an all-knowing depth to them.

“Oh, sweet Nuala, you’ll still let anyone sit on your branches as long as they say something interesting.”

“I—I do not! Stop looking smug!”

“A queen is not smug, she is certain,” Efval said simply, turning her nose up. “Even if I did not want to, it still reaches my ears.”

“Then stop listening about it! Who is telling you?!” Nuala demanded, nearly screeching with her flushed face and teary eyes, raw embarrassment blushing hotly across her cheeks.

“That is rather unmentionable right now,” Efval said, smiling coquettishly.

*~*

They passed through the rice fields, marching over barely-maintained dirt roads. Farmers and more watched from a distance, the most skittish of them scurrying inside homes. Simple folk of a simple lifestyle, they had no desire to stand before the plate-clanking, blazing red samurai armor of their great Lord’s own troops. Harraxin born, nonetheless! Four in total, well-aged in their incredible bulk and thick, unbreakable spines. That they wore any armor at all was more an indication of status than purpose; their skin dense enough even a steel blade couldn’t cut it.

The group paused when they reached the end of the road, leading out into tree-dotted wild plains that soon turned into a forest. The three—ostensibly smaller than their leader—looked up to the imposing woman. Her rough face twisted as a thoughtful scowl settled, beady blue eyes surveying the land. One wouldn’t be wrong for mistaking her for a warlady, her natural crown of two jagged, sloping horns accentuating the locks-tied gold-bespeckled black hair spilling down her shoulders.

“Hmph.” Snorting, she reached into the leather pouch hanging off her rope-tied belt. She pulled out a small, rounded device, setting it in her other palm with her horrendously dangerous looking claws. The small, mysteriously burning candle within the glass dome flickered, the wisp of smoke coming off flowing in the way ahead of them. Letting out a snorting growl—such was their kinds dismissive sound—she stuffed it back inside the pouch. “Still that way,” she said, her shoulder spines rattling when she pointed dead ahead. “No road. I’ll check every lunch and dusk. It won’t be long if that bitch ninja isn’t chin-deep in this place.”

“Will those elves really let us just walk in?” one of the harraxin, Kohana, asked, seeming ill-at-ease at the idea.

“Honda said they would. If they don’t, it’s his problem.”

“That doesn’t do us any good, Hanamaru,” the second harraxin, Mayumi, said, holding her hands out in a wide-armed shrug. “He told us that a few days ago. These tree humpers probably don’t even know we’re coming.”

“Then tell them off, or kill them if they don’t. Are you a coward?” Hanamaru, standing at the front of the ground twisted around half-way, staring with a scowl. The weight of her voice carried in the air with every word, deep in its guttural power and vexingly feminine tones.

“You know how hard it is getting their damn arrows out of here!” the second screeched, pointing at her own shoulder spines. “Those fuckin’ sap arrows stick for weeks!”

Hanamaru dragged her palm down her mature face, dark-motley skin dragging in an exasperated motion. “And I’ll dip you in vat of cheese if that’s all you’re complaining about!” she growled, then threw up a hand menacingly. “Get into formation and guard Amaya! The last thing I need is that stupid box being broken and we have to do all of this again!”

Really, _errand girl_ for Honda of all things. Hanamaru couldn’t believe she had been given such a brain-dead task. The first time she’d left Kitinchi in decades and she was a delivery girl! Her blood had been boiling since they left Honda’s castle, and she just _wished_ one of those elven stuck-ups tried something. One good swing and she’d rip them chest-from-legs in a damn—

“What’s that?” the first harraxin said, squinting and staring at the tree line.

“What do you see, Kohana?”

“A bunch of things walking toward us.”

“… Walking?” Hanamaru wondered aloud, staring in the same direction. Her eyes were not as good at long sights, much of the forest line and field farther away blurring together. If she stared and squinted for a long while, she _started_ to notice something moving in the distance. “What are they?”

“Not elves, that’s for sure. Fuckers never walk normally,” Kohana muttered, scratching her chin with an audible dragging of claws against skin. “They look kind of short. Stunted, maybe.”

“… Humans?” Amaya, the most quiet of the four, asked. The other three started laughing then, Mayumi going as far as slapping her knee. In the time it took to regain their composure, the strangers crept closer. “No, they’re much uglier. What are those?”

“Ha-haha, ah, Kohana?” Hanamaru wheezed out, grinning stupidly. No answer came and she looked over, finding Kohana looking _deeply cross_ in the face. “What is it?”

“Say, Hanamaru, do you remember Black Rock Ridge?”

It took her a solid moment to recall, the memory all _too familiar_ upon hearing the name. Hanamaru’s jolly mirth bled away like a stuck pig, and she stared sharply. “I do.”

“It might be another one of those.” Kohana lifted a clawed hand, pointing at the strangers. “A bunch of kagr, and they’re being led by something human-sized in black robes.”

“A _nagraki_?”

“They have a _Doomblade_.”

“A what?” Mayumi asked, only to nearly jump out of her skin at how swiftly Hanamaru unholstered her own axe. One might be forgiven regarding it as a club with an edge, for the immense weapon was oversized even in a harraxin’s hands. For whatever Mayumi didn’t know, seeing Hanamaru’s face twist in the _nastiest scowl_ she’d ever seen made her blood freeze. The three other warriors backed away from their leader, readying their own weapons in the process.

“Kohana, Mayumi,” Hanamaru said, her tone the example of command. “Guard the flanks around Amaya. Amaya, I need a [Soul Chains] talisman.”

“I can make one now, I don’t need the guards,” Amaya said, already reaching into the long, sloping bags hanging around her waist.

“No, after that, begin a [Reaper Summoning].”

“R-reaper, what? Are you—”

“Do as I say,” Hanamaru barked immediately. “Questions later.”

“Understood,” the three other warriors chirped in unison.

“Kohana, our backs aren’t to the wall this time. You and Mayumi be careful with the kagr. If they figure out what Amaya is doing, we may have to retreat.”

“Us? Retreat?” Mayumi sputtered out, looking at Hanamaru with incredulity. The lead harraxin, however, stared at the approaching enemies with utmost seriousness.

“You’re young. Nagraki are no joke, least of all one wielding a Doomblade. If it cuts you once on your arms or legs, chop them off immediately.”

“Chop them off? Just like that?”

“If you lack the resolve to survive however you can, then you will fail as a warrior.”

“Here’s the talisman!” Amaya chirped, and then slapped down a rectangular slab of thin paper in Hanamaru’s waiting palm. Red borders framed the creamy colored base, inscribed with written words and icons of holy meaning. Hanamaru nodded, and took up her enormous axe with both hands.

“Right then. Kohana is in charge if I go down. I’ll handle the nagraki and the center group. Understand?”

“Understood!” They sang out in unison again.

Walking out to meet the enemy, the air carried a _particular stench_ upon it. Weak, yet familiar enough to harken her mind to a war hundreds of years ago. Hanamaru gritted her teeth, spines hackling with a rhythmic wave. Funny, in a way, how such a drab and boring day suddenly turned toward a brush with death itself. She hadn’t felt such a whiplash in mood in decades, such was the rarity of anything truly dangerous. There wasn’t any pleasure to be found in this battle, only a gnawing sense of dread.

_Where did you come from?_ Hanamaru wondered, the kagr and their nagraki leader slowly coming into her vision. They made no motions to stop, the kagr themselves quite ecstatic and ready to fight it seemed. Such a familiar sight and smells, minus the vast hordes of old and the moving wall of flesh and steel of friends. Why here? Why now? It must be their first target, for the nagraki had no slain any yet with its vile blade. Not a single possessed or zombie to be seen, for however thankful she was for that.

_Well, that’s that._ Rolling her shoulders, Hanamaru set her idle mind aside as one might put down a pen. She took stock of the enemy, and found that none of the kagr had any exceptional weapons. Their peculiar ash-forged weapons were there, but they had neither spell nor enchantment upon them. She did not fear them, for such weak creatures had no hopes of piercing her skin, let alone her spines. Setting her feet apart with a hearty, ground-thumping stomp, she took a squatting stance, axe balanced in her hands.

“Alright!” Hanamaru growled out, rotating her head, flexing her shoulders, and limbering up. “It’s been a few hundred years, but I remember your kind.”

There was a technique to fighting Doomblade wielders, if one did not have the priestess blessing [Turn Away Doom].

“I wonder if you remember me?!” Hanamaru yelled out, laughing as the approaching enemies paused for a moment. “Come, nagraki! You stride so confidently before me!”

One could not take a flesh-cutting blow, or it would bestow the [Doom] curse. Thus, only three options were available, though most only believed in two of them.

Lifting a veiled, gloved hand, the nagraki’s distinctive throat rattling hiss-cry came, and the kagr answered in kind. They sped ahead of their leader, brandishing weapons and howling in hungry anticipation. Ah, the screams; the thunder of feet upon earth; the rattling of metal plates and bardings! Oh, her heart roared with blood and her spines sharpened straight up! Hanamaru laughed, her low-defensive posture ready.

“Come! Come!” she roared out, beckoning with her axe. “Today you die to Hanamaru, last chieftain of HARRAXA!” Her declaration joined with a grand, boisterous force, the raw power of [Roar of Triumph] turning a mere shout into a blasting force. A shockwave of raw air pressure blew out, flattening the grass around them in an instant as much as it sent kagr falling on their asses. Seizing the moment, she lunged forward, the earth ripping underneath her muscular legs. To fight enemies barely reaching her knees, she kept low to the ground, her axe angled in a scything sweep.

What few still stood pointed their jagged spears at her, terror all too evident in their disgusting faces. Tragically for them, even with their ‘long reaching’ weapons, Hanamaru’s imposing size outreached them completely. Rearing back, she swung her steel-forged axe in a grand, sweeping arc. Whether the bladed edge cut through them or the overwhelming force broke their bodies, every kagr she hit went flying off to the side. Quite the dozen in the first blow, and those just beyond fell on their asses again at the wind pressure from the swing.

Yet her eyes were not upon them, weak trash unbefitting of strategy.

The nagraki stood farther back, staring. Through the hood she saw what was left of a man’s face, half-twisted and contorted by a black, flesh growth covering him. Such looked much like vines or mycelium of mushrooms, expansive, thriving and alive as it consumed him. Her brow furrowed. _Not fully converted yet. Strange._

It would make fighting him easier, comparatively.

Shifting weight and keeping momentum going, Hanamaru swung her axe again, clearing out another dozen in front of her. None could mistake her path heading straight toward the nagraki, and the kagr outside of the danger rushed to flank. In turn met by Kohana and Mayumi, they found (ostensibly) smaller harraxin warriors ready for them. Spear and sword alike pierced the kagr, who lost their wits now that they had no way to surround Hanamaru.

Among the three options, one must take blows to armor or clothing, but never the flesh. If one can avoid a blow, then all the better. The third is to take a blow deliberately to a leg or arm, so as to catch the Doomblade wielder off-guard. In killing the wielder, one then must immediately amputate their limb.

Towering amongst hundreds of kagr, Hanamaru strode like a giant, what blows that landed doing no harm at all. Whether broken upon her immense spines, deflected by the armor covering her skin, or just her skin at all—no kagr blade worked. Axe balanced on one shoulder, she beckoned for the nagraki, smiling with her boisterous taunt. Only then did the creature finally move, flourishing its burgundy-glowing iron sword. Doomblades thus were known not for the actual blade, but the enchantment—even a wooden sword, if it can withstand the spell, could be one.

_It is not whole yet so it cannot disappear into shadows,_ Hanamaru appraised, ages of experience crashing together in micro-seconds of thought. _It can move to the sides or underneath the swing. Knowing it needs only pierce my skin, the shortest route to doing so is …_

Ah, to face an enemy not with a grueling battle of skill and physical might. It all came down to who made the right move in the first swing.

How horribly dishonorable.

Yet, entirely a nagraki way of fighting.

Hanamaru, snarling, reared her axe back as the two came within range. She swung at chest-height with the creature, denying it a sideways escape. The nearer she came, the more it began bending at the knees and belly. As a snake might contort itself, its whole body undulated beneath the axe’s blade. Such was its smooth, disturbing movement that it had already started angling upright, sword toward Hanamaru’s belly. It let out a screeching cry as its sword-arm was suddenly grabbed, engulfed by Hanamaru’s enormous hand. Its head, grappled by the other that contained the talisman.

Her axe went rocketing off, all the force of the swing carrying it into some nearby kagr with a mighty slam that buried it in the earth.

“That trick won’t work on me again,” Hanamaru enthused with a guttural laugh. The nagraki’s sword arm broke in her crushing hand, a sickening pop of bone and tearing of flesh. It kicked and twisted, desperately trying to escape. Muffled screams of the man who was the nagraki’s host followed, screaming into the growth that stole his mouth. “Now, come out, you wretched thing.”

Crushing the skull in her palm, the body spasmed and jerked on pure, instinctual reflex. Blood and gore of all sorts leaked out between her fingers, but Hanamaru cared not. A flare of blue light shot out, the ethereal light of holy magic as it worked. She pulled the body away with her other hand, the skull-holding one separating as it held onto something. A writhing mass of oily-brown shadows spasmed, peeling out off of its host like any other parasite. One might vaguely see it in a humanoid shape, but all sorts of mouths and gnashing teeth adorned its ‘skin’. A creature born of nightmares and unimaginable suffering.

Hanamaru’s nose curled distastefully, her upper lip peeling back enough to show her jagged, uneven teeth. _A wraith. Young, too. A young wraith and a still-converting body._ She looked around the field, but her poor eyesight meant she only really saw the battle that surrounded her. _I do not feel its parent nearby, but still …_

Something was very off about the entire situation.

Her two fellows continued on admirably. Kohana she expected to; a veteran warrior such as her dying to kagr would be laughed at throughout the ages. Mayumi, well, if it weren’t for her natural hardiness she might’ve taken a few bothersome hits. The kagr, for all their stupidity, rapidly became aware of how outclassed they were. That some shrieked and pointed at her, their leader-apparent now trapped in her hands, sent a ripple throughout the survivors. Those who didn’t catch on kept fighting and died, while the remainder soon turned and fled manically.

In the quiet that followed, punctuated by the pained moaning of what few survived on the ground, mist began gathering. An odd sight to see on a clear day, but Hanamaru had the misfortune of seeing it more than once. It grew steadily like a fog bank blowing in, soon drowning the sky out and leaving the world around her in a dim haze. Her three warriors soon gathered around her, Amaya’s hands wrapped in prayer beads that glowed eerily.

“It comes,” she said simply, her attention solely upon her meditative hand posture.

“Put your weapons away,” Hanamaru said, already hearing the ringing of a bell. Rustling beads and the tap-tap-tap of wooden sandals pierced the deathly calm air. “And try not to speak, unless you want to die.” They all nodded, a motion more heard than seen by her. She kept her eyes toward the approaching sounds, a dim light in the fog swinging back and forth. Soon a lantern peaked through the fog, held by a ghoulishly decrepit hand. Then the rest of it emerged, the fog flowing over its shambling form like water down a wall.

Adorned in the robes of a white robes of a priestess, the reaper’s face hid behind a terrifying mask of porcelain and red markings. Its teeth grew outward in a curve, two empty eye sockets full of darkness despite the lantern shining light upon them. Craning its head, it looked back and forth, surveying them all in its silent manner.

“Here,” Hanamaru growled out, holding the still-writhing nagraki wraith. “Something for you to take back.”

The reaper walked forward, shuffling as an old man near the end of his life. Rubbing its chin as it looked over the nagraki, the reaper sized it up no different than a cut of meat at the butcher’s. Nodding and nodding, it left the lantern floating in air, reaching into its vast robes. When it pulled out a simple brown jar, it slid open the lid, pointing the empty inside at the nagraki. A rush of wind followed, roaring into the jar as the nagraki’s whole being began to suck inside of it. Hanamaru let go, letting it and the talisman keeping it trapped disappear. As quickly as the wind started it stopped, the reaper closing the jar once again.

“You’ll want that sword, too,” Hanamaru said, pointing at the Doomblade still on the ground by her feet. “Not something that belongs in this world.”

Just as before, the reaper inspected the item before picking it up daintily. Stowing the blade away into its robes, it looked upon Hanamaru utmost expectantly. The chieftain, however, shook her head. Nodding and nodding, the reaper plucked its lantern from the air and walked away. Rattling beads and tapping sandals echoed in the air, the reaper disappearing into the fog once more. The air began clearing as the sounds faded, and soon they found themselves beneath the sun once again, the death moans of kagr conspicuously absent.

Amaya let out an exhale, breaking her meditative hands apart. “It—it didn’t want more?” she gasped out, sweat dripping down her fearsome face.

“No, it took plenty,” Hanamaru said, appraising the battlefield. “Do you see anything more, Kohana?”

“No. The runners concern me, but they’re long gone.”

“Mm. If more nagraki show up, we will not have much of a chance. Its concerning how they came out of the elves’ forest, but …” Hanamaru shrugged her shoulders. “We better hurry and find that bitch-ninja. We’re too far away to go back and warn Honda.”

“I agree.”

“Wait, hold on for a second!” Mayumi demanded, clapping her hands for attention. “Reapers don’t just _show up_ and leave like that! Don’t they, take hundreds of lives and sate their—”

“Reapers were made to hunt nagraki,” Hanamaru said simply, leaving Mayumi and Amaya gobsmacked. “Such is Komaru’s great hatred of the nagraki, his spirits chase them through the darkness. Most people make the mistake of thinking they can have reapers do their bidding.” Scratching her head through her thick, lock-like hair, Hanamaru rolled her shoulders. “As long as you offer up nagraki sacrifices, they’ll be happy to work for you.”

“Is there anything you don’t know?” Amaya asked coyly, making the chieftain chuckle.

“How to keep a wife that lasts more than one night.”

The three warriors uproariously laughed even as Hanamaru sheepishly scratched at her cheek. A little depreciating humor always worked well for easing up the younger folk. Her mind yet remained on the disturbing appearance of her old, once-dead enemy. That the kagr had been enthralled was no surprise, they were ripe for such a thing. A youngling nagraki and a newly forged Doomblade—she hadn’t seen such since the end of the Ash War. Grinding her teeth together in thought, the audible, muted clicking drew Kohana’s gaze, who stared quite knowingly at her.

Letting out a huffing grunt, Hanamaru said, “Let’s go. Time is a problem now. Mayumi, get my axe.”

“Haa? I can’t lift that thing!”

“You are still so scrawny.”

“You’re too damn big!”

“Ah, so you want to carry it for me, then?”

Mayumi shut up and hurriedly went over, trying to wrench the enormously unwieldy weapon from the earth.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.6) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.22) – Interested Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.2)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) -- Curious Magi


	26. Conflicting Interests

_Most decisions are amalgamations of many smaller, competing ones coming together._

*~*

_Genetics is kind of terrifying when you have magic powers and a super brain,_ Avaron mused, sitting on the hive floor. Her legs hung over the edge, kicking absently above the ten-foot drop. Blue flesh pulsed around her, inching and inching as it ever grew across rock and dirt. _The amount of possibilities are truly endless._ Blowing a raspberry and deflating, she fell backward onto the lukewarm floor plating.

Farther ahead, various drones scuttled about, scouting through different tunnels and passages. Although completely pitch-black, their echolocating clicks painted the environment. Those fancy imaginative representations in TV really didn’t do justice to ‘seeing through sound’. It gave her something of a headache immersing into _that_ perspective, though.

_Knowing that brood mothers contribute to the gene pool, and then I can select what the eggs grow into … mmm, it’s a very controlled process. Higher level brood mothers contribute stronger … genes, I guess. It’s not just genes but as I might as well call them that._ Avaron scratched her head. _I can see the positive feedback loop now, at least. It doesn’t make designing new drones any easier but oh well._

Time was the one thing she couldn’t cheat. Whatever she worked on, all her attention was stuck on that one thing. Combined with all the different parts of the Hive that needed juggling, she was quickly reaching her effective limit. _I can kind of get around it by wiring more to the subconscious mind, but,_ Avaron thought, her lips pursing together. _I’m hitting a glass ceiling here unless I start sacrificing priorities._

If she had to, she had to.

_If_.

_How do they do it in sci-fi? Big spooky hive mind, fills every living creature in the hive—got that part. How does it think more? More brains?_ She paused on the idea, not really recalling anything new with the expanding drone groups. More information flowed into her, of course, but not necessarily more processing. All that stuff got regulated to the subconscious mind, with only the choice strategic or tactical bits coming to the surface. Not _more_ processing, just _different ways_.

_Ah, damnit. If I could just buy a bunch of server clusters, or a data center. Then I’d have Johnathon do that big template copying thing he loved so much._ Avaron sucked in a breath and sat upright. “What was it called again? Ugh, feels like a life time ago … boxing? Docking? No, not that.” Huffing and grumbling, she then said in a higher, reenacting voice, “Jonathon we need another data center for the east coast. How long until you can setup?”

She lowered her voice next. “Once you have the hardware I can do full roll out of the cloning software and—”

Avaron blinked.

_Cloning software._

_Cloning._

_Copying the template and making more of it._

Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She didn’t need brood mothers to grow the hive—well, she did, but not for the population. If she could take a working template and genes, then that could be slapped into any number of eggs. It wasn’t strictly necessary for eggs to go into women, either. That just acquired the genes they needed to contribute to the Hive. Avaron slowly cradled her head with her hands, eyes tight with deep, focused thinking. _That’s it, isn’t it? That’s how I solve this bottleneck._

It seemed impossible to grow the armies she needed just off a handful of women. A simple calculation of numbers proved that, regardless of the ethics or morals in the most ‘optimal’ situation. But cloning—creating egg hatcheries enmasse and just applying a template to them …

The limiting factor changed from ‘number of birthing women’ to ‘available birthing space’ and ‘total food supply’.

That—that was just an economics problem. The expansion of the Hive without concern of moral quandaries or personal ethics to impede it. If she needed more birthing space, expand the hive growth. If she needed more food, create more farming space, or improve existing methodology. As each thought worked through her mind, Avaron smiled more and more. To any other who might’ve seen, it was a most terrifying sight. Not from any ferocity or animalistic sense of menace.

Hers was the face of one who might hold the world in her palm, and all the cold, calculative thinking that required.

_But now, for the real question._

She slowly lifted her head up, staring at her own two hands.

_Can I clone myself?_

*~*

“Oop!” Gwyneth squeaked, catching herself on a nearby wall of—something. Avaron said it was a ‘hive plate’ but it didn’t look any different from other stone to her. It did feel really quite smooth, though! “I see what Tsugumi meant,” she muttered, pulling herself up again. Not even a week later and the bump in her belly made walking that more _different_. Not unfeasible or anything, but a constant weight she sort of forgot about taking into accout. Despite that, she couldn’t help rubbing her belly, the robes barely deterring her at all.

Ah, being so _full_ left her body buzzing happily.

She hadn’t a clue how much was normal pregnancy or the effects of a tentradom. What few pregnant women she helped over her life really did find the weight of it quite burdensome. Then again, they were further along then her? No clear answer awaited, but she’d find out in time. Ah, her mind had wandered again. With a tiny bounce in her step she headed through the Hive, moving to the entrance. It really quite amazed her how warm and fluffy-comfortable an underground place could feel! If they hadn’t told her, she wouldn’t have known.

_Oh? Who is this?_ Gwyneth wondered, the presence of a person waiting at the Hive’s cave entrance. Neither Tsugumi nor Avaron, they had the presence and figure of an elvetahn. The stranger stood up from the ground, patting themselves off at her arrival. A slim figure cut with a fine flowing dress, that typical of a servant.

“Priestess,” the stranger said, bowing partly. “Her Majesty summons you.”

_The queen?_ She had no business with such a venerable figure. “I—I see. Lead the way,” Gwyneth said, stiffly formal. It was good she took the time to sort out her robes and clean them yesterday. Despite being summoned suddenly, it would invariably be _her_ fault for not being proper. Such was the way of nobles. They went on their way, Gwyneth quietly fussing over her robes and tidying them up as best she could.

The eyes of others fell upon her, scrutinizing but cool and dispassionate. Elvetahn had little regard for outsiders, and they must’ve found her presence particularly queer. It concerned her, not for herself but for how it might reflect upon Avaron.

Thus Gwyneth resolved to be as proper as one could be. Not that she wasn’t going to anyway, but that bit of extra special attention was needed. Brought to a grandly tall tent in the middle of the elvetahn encampment, the servant ushered her inside. The hot, dense air of aromatic flowers smacked her nose, and she barely repressed a cough. She’d heard much of how intoxicating the elvetahn preferred their homes to be, but reality was certainly different. Through one curtain and another, she was guided across the tight interior. The final one saw her enter a rounded room, with a simple circle-table and two chairs at the center.

Pots with blooming flowers hung all over the ceiling, a clear opening above allowing sunlight down through a sheer sheet. The edges of the ‘room’ were lined with more tables, full of documents, scrolls, writing tools, and all the necessary tools of office. It came out as surprisingly modern to Gwyneth, who half-expected the elvetahn queen to be more traditional. _Tis not very different from Shadowpeak,_ she mused. Efval herself remained busy with a document, reading it over and scratching out areas while writing in others.

A few minutes later, she set it down, looking up at Gwyneth without moving her head. “Sit.”

Moving to the chair opposite of the queen, Gwyneth did so, neatly, folding her robes in and squeezing her ankles together. Such formal posture felt all the more _difficult_ with her pregnant belly pushing out, but thankfully it wasn’t too full. That the queen’s gaze raked over her midsection left her all the more uncomfortable, however. “Thy Majesty,” she said, bowing her head politely.

“A Flame priestess has not walked on these lands in nearly a thousand years,” Efval said, brushing past formality entirely. “I cannot imagine the Order has forgotten the agreement.”

“They have not, Thy Majesty. Tis imparted upon all members of the Order with utmost import.”

“And you, who disavows the Order, still dare to set foot upon my land?”

“The Flame bids mine service to the divine heroine.”

Efval drew up and sat back in her plush chair, prominent as it was in its elegant simplicity. “And if the Order is not commanded by the Flame anymore, then what are they now?”

“I—am most certain they are.”

“You are the Chosen of the Flame, little girl,” Efval said coolly. “Even if you do not understand what that means, I do.”

Gwyneth looked away, utterly uncomfortable. “Tis surely not something so grand.”

“Hm, they have not told you then. Perhaps it is for the best.” Efval waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “You will tell me why it is the Flame bids you service the heroine. _That_ heroine of all.”

“It simply does, Thy Majes—” An instinctual shiver crept down Gwyneth’s back, the primal part of her brain registering danger. The air felt normal as ever, but the queen’s glare upon her spoke more than what words could convey. “T-that is, ehm …” Gwyneth sputtered out, squirming in her chair. The tiny, heart-shaped flame atop her bosom wobbled for a moment, speaking as it always did. In its soundless words she found comfort and strength, enough to calm her panicking heart and ‘meet’ the queen’s eons-old gaze.

It still took the utmost effort to speak before a tree so truly, incomprehensibly massive.

“A new Age of Fire is coming,” Gwyneth said slowly, each word careful in its choice. “One that frightened the Flame itself.”

Efval’s face contorted with a brief flash of confusion. “The same Flame that seeks to make these ages?”

“Yes. The Flame transforms, and what is old becomes something new. But as all mankind knows, and perhaps Thy Majesty, tis a thin line between transformation and destruction.”

“They are arguably the same, depending on the intent.”

“… Yes. The Flame has ever sought to balance both. But, the new Age of Fire, it beckons only destruction. Rampant, unstoppable, unending destruction.”

“And this heroine can help stop it?”

Gwyneth nodded. “Tis the only hope the Flame holds left now. None of the other heroines are capable.”

Efval reclined in her chair, staring off at some flower while deep in thought. A low, dry chuckle soon escaped her lips, brows creeping upward. “Mother will not like hearing this.”

_Mother?_ Gwyneth froze, struck silly at hearing the word. She knew well of Queen Gladestride’s mother, a being long buried in myth and legend. To hear that all but meant _she_ still lived. A cold, clammy sweat threatened to break out, Gwyneth already feeling light-headed enough to clonk out on the floor. Efval looked over then, a brief flash of recognition passing through her eyes.

“You are not as stupid as you let on,” she said simply.

“Mine studious habits, Thy Majesty,” Gwyneth squeaked out. “I read deeply in the Order’s libraries.”

“As you say. I give you leave to remain on these lands, for the time being.” Efval picked up her wooden, branch-like pen from its wresting place. A white feather dipped in ink awaited at the end, fresh to write. “You understand I do not extend this to anyone else from the Order.”

“Certainly, Thy Majesty. Tis no other but me who should be with the heroine.”

“Leave, then.”

No more at any other point in her short life had Gwyneth been so overjoyed to breathe outside air again.

*~*

“Are you sure? If we rotate them so that every door is in the hallway, there’d be enough space for two additional rooms.”

“It’s important for the rooms to have that space, yes,” Tsugumi said, standing beside the elvetahn architect. “It helps to keep the noise of each room further apart. In the future, I am thinking about adding a patio. It would fit easily—” she drew her finger across the expansive paper before them, running it around the line-drawn perimeter of a housing floorplan. “—with the additional hallways.”

“I am seeing that,” he said, rubbing his chin. “If you plan on mirroring this whole area—” he circled the bedrooms’ entire housing block, “—you will end up using a lot of unnecessary ground later, though.”

“I cannot build an inn for customers I do not have,” Tsugumi said lightly, clicking her fingers together in a rhythmic tapping. “Which is more unreasonable: a large but empty inn, or a small one that must rebuild later?”

The architect chuckled. “I do not disagree, lady Tsugumi. It would be unkind of me to not ask the obvious.”

“It is good to be diligent. Let us proceed as we spoke on before with that in mind. I shall hire you again if I need more building done.”

“I understand,” he said and then gathered up the planning paper. “We’ll do what we can to finish the main building. The structure will be fine, but furnishings will have to wait until the next time.”

“It is what it is,” she said, folding her hands together politely. “We are not in a terrible rush yet.”

“Pleasant rains upon you, lady Tsugumi.”

“To you as well, Haeleaf.”

With the oversight part of the job done, Tsugumi made her way out of the still-building inn. Much of the skeleton had been placed, and they were just now sectioning walls for the main building. It looked so very _odd_ to her how much it resembled tora architecture, but built with very obviously different methods. Much of the fine, seamless wood-joinery that defined a tora building was simply gone. It was not that the elvetahn were unskilled with it, they simply preferred using their wood glue far, far more. Its adhesive strength was legendary, forming a bond stronger than stone-and-mortar could ever achieve.

Nails and other metallic fixings were sparingly rare, if used at all. The elvetahn did not readily mine the earth, and so such things were not a common building component. The tora also did not use them that much, but by comparison they were utterly extravagant. Not only that, but the method of making shoji differed in the components! Rounded wood rather than clean-cut squares, and a paper more greenish in tint than pleasantly white. Sure it looked suitable enough for a shoji, but the _aesthetic_ of it was just _off_.

Knowing she had no room to complain, Tsugumi couldn’t help pining for a more tora-like inn. In the same thought, her mind inevitably returned to her centuries-long prison and a disgusting, chitin-rattling shiver came over her. _Perhaps different will be best,_ Tsugumi thought with a touch of sourness. Stepping through what would eventually become the grand front entrance, she paused at the freshly set stone path. “For one so disinclined to be here, you make an effort to stay,” she said simply.

“I am compelled to,” Nuala said simply, leaning against the wall next to the door.

“A disturbing thought. But now you are here, seeking me out.”

“Can I not enjoy the sound of labor?”

Tsugumi glanced at Nuala from the corner of her eyes, regarding her dubiously for a moment. Electing to call the bluff, she walked onward, heading down the path the workers had made. A simple arrangement for the time being, one that went to the flowing river and split into two directions. One went further down the river and into the awaiting forest, the other toward the river’s mouth. In heading up toward the river’s mouth, she eyed the cave entrance waiting.

Nuala’s footsteps hurriedly caught up to her. “You must tell me more about her.”

“Who?”

“The heroine.”

“’Must’ is a terribly strong word, do you not agree?”

“It is an imperative.”

“For you, I suspect,” Tsugumi said lightly, clicking her tongue.

“You do not understand—”

“—I understand completely,” Tsugumi cut in immediately, smiling with a razor-edged politeness. “Even in my time, Nuala the Black’s rapacious appetite for knowledge was known far and wide. I cannot imagine she has forgotten about the city of Gilgan and what happened.” The air changed as it always did when one was confronted with a _sore_ topic. Tsugumi made a show of stopping and looking over, meeting the stoically stone-like gaze Nuala affixed her with. The inn hostess, still smiling, tilted her head. “You are a most brilliant scholar, of that I have no doubt. I am certain you understand why I keep your uncontrolled ambitions at bay.”

“You could not be alive back then to know,” Nuala said simply, appraising Tsugumi. Undoubtedly with some secretive magical sight, but such didn’t bother her.

“Life is mysterious, isn’t it?” Tsugumi hid her grin behind a hand, her cheeks still quite seen. “I was not involved directly. Or, well, all of us in Gilgan were that day, I suppose.”

They stared each other down for a moment.

“You know I will not stop then,” Nuala said, an awfully threatening manner that lacked the weight one expected. “What she knows is of vital importance to the Alva Forest.”

“And your great desires, I am sure. People like you all have the same eyes.” Tsugumi held up a hand. “I shall give you an offering, then. A token for you and your continued _relationship_ with us.”

“Oh?”

“That mind manipulating magic of yours, it will get you killed. Avaron despises anyone who utilizes it, and she has the power to know when it is being done.” Folding her hands together neatly in front of her, Tsugumi schooled her face to a neutral look. “And no one will know for it is such a rare magic to have. If you wish to learn more from her, be prepared to do it more _traditionally_.”

“… I see.”

“Oh, perhaps there is a second offering to be given. She’s yet to take an elvetahn wife _properly_ , and I am told _all_ the women of your kind are _irresistibly_ beautiful.” Nuala seemed quite taken aback, but Tsugumi already turned away, resuming her walk. The magi did not follow this time, and quite soon her presence disappeared.

Tsugumi sighed in her own mind, whole body anxiously taut. _A little white lie,_ she mused, wondering how much Nuala actually _saw_ through. Powerful people were always difficult to deal with. Not in so much for killing them—there were hundreds of ways to do so, even for someone much lower level than them like her. It was their whims and fancies, their self-centered view of doing what they pleased when they pleased. Much as one could trust their life to the wind, it was liable to throw them across the sky or be a gentle breeze.

Hopefully she might guide them to a more _productive_ approach.

Even if it meant letting one of the most dangerous magi in the world fuck her wife. Or her wife fuck her.

Or add her to the harem.

Or something.

Tsugumi rubbed her temples with all four hands when she entered the Hive’s cave. _How very troublesome keeping a straight household these days,_ she groused.

*~*

“Alright, now that we have some basic walls up to cut down the noise, how is everyone?”  
  


“Great.”

“Fine.”

“About as well as you can expect.”

“God damn it is like having a mirror talk back.”

“Isn’t that my line?”

“No, it’s mine.”

“We’re not starting this shit again.”

An asynchronous chuckling filled the small hive room, eerily close but just distinct enough to be disturbing to hear. “Okay, okay, calm down,” one of them said, clapping her hands. “We need to start some productivity here.”

“Are we sticking with ten of us?”

“That’s about as much as we can handle right now. That splitting brain pain when the eleventh was forming was too much.”

“Do you think that’s our max capacity?”

“That or a limit of our skills.”

“Ten is plenty for the time being.”

“I’m surprised this worked as fast as it did.”

“In fairness this is one of our core strengths, isn’t it?”

“I guess.”

“So how are we going to work this out, exactly?” They each looked around the room. Although their minds yet remained connected, they were like many different trunks stemming out of the same root system. Thanks to some mental barriers, their idle thoughts weren’t flooding each other in a cacophony anymore. Yet, as far as Avaron was concerned, it was much like being a cubicle farm. A thin barrier separated the workers, but it was easy enough to get around, let alone hear the others working.

Intimate without being overwhelming for the time being.

“Well, we could start with names, I guess?” One of them said. “We all know each other because we are each other. Gwyneth and Tsugumi sure as hell wont, or anyone else for that matter.”

“Oh that does raise a question, doesn’t it?”

“One problem at a time until we get this parallel thinking shit sorted.”

“Fine.”

“I think names are good. If nothing else we need designations so we can make sure our workflow is in order.”

“Like a serial code?”

“Sure. A1, A2, A3, A4, A5, etcetra.”

“Even I’m going cross-eyed at the idea.

“So do the serial code and an identifying personal name.”

“I was just thinking that.”

“We all were, asshole,” the other nine Avarons chimed in at once.

“Tough crowd.”

“Let’s just get this out of the way. Do we just want to pick names or do it to purpose?”

“What do you mean, purpose?”

“Well the whole point of this is to specialize in different Hive tasks. Research, farming, drones, fucking …” one-by-one the Avaron speaking ticked off her fingers. “It might be easier to pick names based on task.”

“Won’t that mean we get stuck in those roles?”

“Tell me not one of us is glad to offload all that extra work.”

“I mean, fair, but …”

“No, I get it. It’s hard to tell right now because we’re all still so close together.”

“Do you think divergence will cause problems in the Hive Mind later?”

“It’s possible. No organism survives being stagnant, though. Diversity of thought, so long as we structurally coexist, should be fine.”

“I agree but we’re also thinking the same still …”

“It’s new ground for all of us. Let’s just take it one day at a time. We can’t really exactly break away from each other, either. Same foundation and all that.”

“Alright,” another one chimed in. “Let’s think of the broadest roles the Hive needs right now.”

“Let’s do it by pairs.”

“What?”

“Let’s pair off each other so at least two are working in an area. It’ll help balance workload; one works while another rests, or a complex problem, etcetra …”

A humming agreement filled the room, ten heads bobbing in agreement.

“Okay so pairing off means we split the Hive into five broad categories, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Okay let’s sort that out. I’m thinking … We have War plus Administration, Farming plus Hive Growth, Research plus Development—”

“—Isn’t R&D the same thing?”

“Shut the fuck up with that stupid joke, no it’s not. Then we have, uhh, Logistics plus Maintenance, and I’m … struggling with the last one here.”

“Fucking and Breeding?” one offered cheekily, much to some of them blushing at the idea.

“Do we, erm, do we really need a whole specialty for that?”

“Wouldn’t that be related to Hive Growth? You know, more drones …”

“No, that’s just the Hive structure itself, remember? That whole group is taking care of the buildings.”

“Right.”

“I guess this loops back around to that point earlier,” one of the less-spoken Avaron said. “How do we handle our harem? Or women in general, at this point.”

A contemplative hum filled the room.

“I doubt they would understand,” another said, much to a collective agreement. “So for now, we need to limit their awareness of us to just one Avaron.”

“So the rest of us can’t fuck?”

“Knowing how much we need to, it may not be that hard to switch places.”

“What, revolving door of Avarons?”

“Kind of. One of us was already plowing two of them silly and still had gas in the tank. Ten of us is just beyond any single woman’s ability to satisfy without going fuck-drunk.”

“Or passing out.”

“Yeah, or that.”

“So we need more women is what I’m hearing.”

“Crudely put, but yes.”

“I cannot believe sex is the spanner in our works right now.”

“Well I’m not fucking any of you.”

“Agreed,” the other nine chimed in at once.

“Plus we do have to masturbate to lay out unfertilized eggs. So that does at least take the edge off.”

“Yeah but I want _pussy_. Or Gwyneth’s tight little mouth.”

“Let’s not think about—oh, goddesses fuck that is hot. No, stop thinking about fucking them! We’re not gonna get fired up right now!”

“You know how hard it is!”

“Oh I’m definitely hard right now.”

“Fuck my life.”

A hand slamming the table drew their collective attention, some of them jumping in their fleshy chairs. “Enough fucking around. We’ll put that topic off for later. What can we do for the last area?”

“Errr …”

“Mining plus manufacturing?” one offered up.

“I suppose? What would we be making?”

“Well we had that idea about modular drone body parts. But, also, if we’re going to trade with other nations, we need to be able to make goods.”

“That is a fair point. If nothing else it might help R&D find new fields of research.”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, so mining plus manufacturing is the last one. All agreed?”

“Uhh, about administration …” one of them spoke up, “Do we really need it?”

“You know what we’ve been through, so, why wouldn’t we?”

“Well, we’re all part of the Hive Mind together. There’s no reporting, we just know what the other knows, experiences what they experience, pretty much in real time. Collective memory, right? So what does an admin do?”

“That—is a point, actually. But if we get rid of admin, it’s two dedicated to just war.”

“What about information?”

“How do you mean?”

“Knowledge is power and all that. Being able to scout, gather intelligence, process information …”

“That sounds like a war thing.”

“Well, yes, but also we need someone to keep in charge of our collective information.”

“Like a data center admin?”

“Yeah, like Johnathon. Remember that ransomware virus that hit the office? If he hadn’t kept weekly backups we would’ve been fucked.”

“You know, that’s a thought.”

“What is—oh, I see.”

“Yeah. Shared memory and shared experience means if one of us goes crazy, all of us might go crazy. Who knows what happens if one of us gets caught and tortured.”

“So some kind of … organic backup?”

“Yeah, somehow. Especially if one of us leaves the range of the Hive Mind and comes back all fucked up.”

“That’s a pretty important idea, actually.”

“See?”

A collective humming agreement followed.

“Okay, War plus Information, then.”

“Agreed,” the other nine said.

“Now that we have positions to fill, who wants what?”

A moment of silence.

“Well since no one is stepping up, let’s just do role of creation, top to bottom.”

“It’s as good as idea as any. Okay. You all have your roles now, let’s introduce ourselves with our new serial code, name, and job.”

“Guess I’ll start then,” one of them said, standing up. “Wait, are we doing greater number or first position?”

“Uhhh considering our number might only increase, probably greater number.”

“Alright, then I’m A10-Aegis, War and Information.” She sat down, then the next stood up.

“Wait are we doing mythological names now?” she asked, looking over at Aegis, who shrugged.

“Sword or shield, shield is way more useful. Plus everyone knows what the Aegis is.”

“What am I supposed to be then?!”

“Medusa? Or a Gorgon?”

Letting out a despondent sigh, she said, “Guess I’m A9-Medusa, War and Information.”

“Okay, we got the mythology twins over there. I’ll be A8-Reaper, Farming and Hive Growth.”

“Reaper, really?” Aegis asked dryly.

“Miss every shot you don’t take.”

“No, it just doesn’t sound sexy to read at all.”

“Mmm, shit, you’re right. What about Venus?”

“I’ll allow it but no more mythology,” the one who will eventually become A1 said.

“Fine, fine, I’m A8-Venus, Farming and Hive Growth.”

“I’ll be A7-Aphora, Farming and Hive Growth.”

“Hah, I get it!” Medusa called out.

“I’m A6-Cypher, Research and Development.”

“A5-Iris, Research and Development.”

“Look at these two joys over here,” Venus remarked dryly.

“Are you bullying me? Am I bullying myself now?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you research it?”

Cypher’s lips pursed together quite sourly as the others chortled at the table.

“Moving along on that one, I’ll be A4-Abyssa, Logistics and Maintenance.”

“Darn that’s a good name.”

“I know, right?”

“Then I’m A3-Corena, Logistics and Maintenance.”

“Ehhh …” the others kind of hemmed and hawed, much to Corena’s choking disbelief.

“Guess that makes me A2-Weaver, Mining and Manufacturing.”

“Tsugumi will kill you if she hears that,” Iris remarked.

“Or bang me!”

“Since the running theme is stupid names, I’ll be A1-Steak Sauce—”

“No!” the other nine shouted at once, much to A1’s laughter.

“Fine, A1-Prime, Mining and Manufacturing.”

“Shouldn’t that be A0’s name?”

“We don’t talk about her.”

“But …”

“Not yet.”

“Fine, alright.”

“Right, now that this is all done,” Aegis said, then clapped her hands. “Lets get to work.”

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.6) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.22) – Interested Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.2)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) -- Curious Magi


	27. Elaborate Moving

_Animals live and die, drawn to the strengths that survive. Weapons are created to kill._

*~*

The slurping suck followed the flesh door opening. Avaron, or A1-Prime, as this one was known by, stepped through. She found herself rather impressed at the sight that greeted her. A cylindrical room stretched ahead, lined with a rib-cage of structural supports. Between these ribs laid benches, shelves, and even more surprisingly, large glass-like containers. Filled with a suspicious looking blue liquid—their own blood, her mind helpfully added—she could see some body parts and organs floating inside them. A webwork of veins and smaller manipulator tentacles connected or moved them, living specimens in half-formed states of work.

Prime let out a whistle, the door sliding shut behind her. (You worked damn fast in two weeks,) she ‘said’, her mental voice carrying across the Hive Mind. It felt more like a warehouse than a room in all honesty. “How the fuck did you do this?”

(Weaver and Aphora,) Cypher shouted from the far end of the lab. The _slap-slap-slap_ of naked feet punctuated the otherwise still air, the naked Avaron approaching Prime. (You know we’re sharing the same mind, you don’t need to be here in person.)

(It’s best if we don’t overload anything. It was already enough of a problem when Venus tried pitching a ride on Medusa while she fucked Tsugumi.)

(Ehh, fair enough,) Cypher said with a shrug. (We’ll do it normally for now, then. Come along.)

The two of them went over to a space in the middle of the lab, where a ring-like cage awaited. Within it sat a tentacleling, or at least what might’ve been one once upon a time. Prime let out a whistle. (It’s the size of an SUV. How’d you get it this big?)

(My rebuilding the whole idea from the ground up,) Cypher said, rolling her shoulders to stretch her neck. (Such a pain to do. All the muscles, veins, heart, organs … everything needs to be different the bigger it gets. And the smaller, for that matter.) She jerked a thumb at the creature. (It looks like a tentacleling but everything under the hood is way fuckin’ different.)

(It’s quite impressive nonetheless.)

(I don’t need the pat on the back, boss,) Cypher remarked dryly. (Two weeks of nothing but digging through DNA, genes, and every other building block of life. Ughghghg, I close my eyes and I see protein chains still. Anyway, here’s the run down …)

The SUV tentacleling had been built for combat, and so had much stronger chitin, more powerful muscles, and redefined sloping. In an awkward fusion of post-gun armor design and natural-grown organics, it had sharp and sweeping angles to deflect incoming attacks. The thicker plating in turn deterred attacks that _would_ penetrate, meaning the amount of force one needed to break through became quite comical. Its ‘head’ had recessed further into the torso, similarly armed with a more fearsome bite.

What really caught Prime’s attention were the forelegs, the most useful of the worker tentacleling’s appendages. (Why did you make them so much larger?)

(Eh? Ah, that. A couple reasons, but here, watch—)

The large tentacleling stood up, accompanied by a rhythmic _thump_ of its eight feet. As it came to a rest, the difference in its posture stood out. The torso and its larger abdomen were on level with its oversized legs, which looked very much like tower-shields all of a sudden. Its front legs were especially taller and thicker, enough that Prime couldn’t see past them and most of the creature’s body anymore. (Natural shields,) she said appraisingly.

(That, and they double as blunt weapons. The two front legs can come down and crush a boulder of equal size. I have no idea how that’ll work in combat, but …)

(A much harder target than people.)

(Yeah. It also makes them a bit useful for heavy duty mining, since Abyssa was complaining about it.)

Prime frowned at hearing that. (It’s supposed to be a pure warrior, not a worker.)

Cypher scratched the back of her head. (Yeaaah, about that. Suffice to say this thing is a tiny tank, and it eats food like a monster. The problem is, it’s all stop-gap solutions.) With a theatrical wave of her hand, the heavy tentacleling sat back down again to rest. (I did a lot of what we already had, and fixed up the problems to make it work. It’ll help the Hive in the interim, but it’s a prototype at best.)

(I’m understanding that now. Do you have anything about the pure warrior?)

(… Yeah, at the back over here.)

Their next stop was a much larger liquid tank, one built with sturdier white-porcelain hive plating. Prime quite liked how the glass, as it were, was actually many layers of thin, semi-translucent silicate. Close, but not quite to the proper stuff, just grown on an organic frame. The hexagonal pattern looked rather sci-fi to her, minus the very obvious organic nature of it all. Cypher stepped up alongside of it, tapping a knuckle in the tank.

(Here she is, or the first parts of her, at least.)

(Just the organs?)

(Yeah. I’ve been playing with Gwyneth’s gene contribution. There’s a lot of common overlap with Tsugumi’s, but the differences start stacking up the more I build.)

(How so?)

(Remember that National Geographic documentary? The cheetahs and elephants one.)

Prime scrunched her face for a moment. (Somewhat, yes.)

(Common genetics being what they are, the specialties really start to stand out. Tsugumi’s kind just does not have the raw endurance humans do,) Cypher said before letting out a sigh. She aimlessly pointed from organ to another, a half-formed arm that was some bizarre fusion of chitin and flesh, an eye with seven pupils, and so on. There was no real rhyme or reason to the body parts, it didn’t even resemble a creature at all. (Right now I’m figuring out where to splice together new genes. The overall creature will probably be humanoid, though.)

(How come?)

(Completely different kinetics, physical performance profile, versatility … it’s ideal for an all-purpose fighter. The spider tentacles will most likely get converted into living vehicles; battering rams, gun carriers, that sort of thing.) Cypher stepped away from the liquid tank, moving to beside Prime. (More than likely there’s hardly going to be any roads. Dirt, maybe some stone ones for big cities, but nothing like asphalt or even concrete. Whatever they’re gonna lack in speed or physical profile, they’ll make up for in actually being able to work.)

(That makes sense, but I imagine we’ll need to do field testing.)

(Oh, it all needs testing. Half this shit is gonna break down the second it leaves life support.) As if realizing something, Cypher clapped her hands together. (That reminds me! I do have something to show.)

Prime, ushered along by Cypher, found herself in the middle of the laboratory, opposite of the heavy worker tentacle’s pen. A similar pen awaited, but this one marked by a crooked, tree-like growth in the center. Prime stared upon the creature sitting on a branch. Ostensibly a bird, like the others it had a white-porcelain look to it, but much softer and befitting of its many feathers. Larger than a big dog, it stretched its wings wide upon her inspection, revealing its monstrous underbelly. A dozen different eyeballs were strewn across its entire torso, looking every direction, always moving and squinting, taking what ever they could.

(What … is this?) Prime asked, squinting.

(One of the younglings ate a raven … or a crow, or something a week ago. I was picking through its DNA when an idea struck me,) Cypher said, holding up a hand to the bird tentacle. It extended its tentacly-head, opening its beak-like mouth to nibble. Somewhere between a bird and a shark’s mouth, something horribly unimaginable to find in nature normally. (You know how much fun there was with the drones? The robot drones, not the—)

(I get it. When I—we, technically, started putting them out around the warehouses.)

(Yup, same idea. Welcome to generation one surveillance drones,) Cypher declared, patting the head of the bird tentacle. (I call them _Skeyes._ )

(Really.)

(Works, doesn’t it?)

Prime rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing. (What does it do?)

(Bird eyes are basically nature’s binoculars. There’s nothing really special, a single one can actively look around with about fourteen eyes. The rest is whatever you’re up to ordering it to do. I’m sure Aegis and Medusa will love them.) Cypher made a shooing motion and the skeye retracted, folding up its wings around itself to rest again. (To be honest, it was really easy to work on. The only thing it needs to do is fly, maintain height, and keep its eyes working. Compared to the _war form_ back there, it was a piece of cake.)

(War form?)

(Working name.)

(What’s the big girl then?)

(Ehhh, crusher or something.)

Prime smacked Cypher upside the head.

*~*

Nuala, sitting within her private tent, stared at her magic mirror. For a brief moment, she thought madness had finally overtaken her, and so sought out the artifact. A simple thing of silver, lined with jade gems, the true treasure was the crystal pane. An ideal conductor for magic, and one that vastly amplified her magical sight to see better.

And yet, she still saw _two of them_.

_How?_ she thought, gripping the mirror hard enough any other kind would’ve shattered. _How is there two of her? That’s impossible!_

It had been quite odd how Avaron suddenly became difficult to meet. The _heroine_ showed up quite often around Tsugumi or Gwyneth, but otherwise disappeared into her underground lair. A rather expansive and growing layer at that, Nuala couldn’t just skip around in it without losing her sense of direction at all. The fact the whole thing was _alive_ made it even harder to find her. Life, after all, lit up her life detection magic.

And the whole lair was alive.

Such a frustrating problem.

Then she finally finds Avaron, and there are _two of them?_ The room there in certainly looked odd—some inordinately enormous alchemy room. The vials, beakers, and enormous glass tanks were full of strange liquids. Even more disgusting were the body parts inside them! She could hardly name half of them, let alone the rest. _Are they not talking?_ Nuala wondered, angling her view around the two Avarons. The sound reading of her magic certainly worked, nothing at all about it was _wrong_.

But the two of them were looking and gesturing as if they spoke.

She even watched their lips, and not once had they moved except to sigh! _Reveal your secrets!_ Nuala all but wanted to shout out. The two went around the room, continuing on in their nonsensical gestures and unheard conversation. The newer tentacle-like creatures she saw left her in disbelief. _What is this place? It wasn’t here last time I checked …_

For that matter, Avaron’s living lair had been much smaller a few weeks ago. Its sudden and incredible increase down into the earth hadn’t been clear until yesterday. Something must’ve happened, and two Avarons definitely made that obvious. Yet in her efforts to determine if something magical was at the roots of it, nothing came up. The whole area ever remained in harmony, if a bit fuller of life than previously. Letting go of the mirror, it hovered in the air as Nuala dragged her richly decorated, jeweled fingers down her face. _Is this a tentradom [Ability]? I have never heard nor seen it, least of all in other tentradom nests._

So many questions, and so many more possibilities she hadn’t a clue where to start with.

_I cannot let this grow out of control. I need more wards._

Tahn’s involvement or not, she had a duty to protect Alva Forest. A tentradom might consume everything if left unchecked.

_Wait._

Tsugumi’s words came back to mind, and Nuala’s eyes narrowed dangerously. _Mind magic. The two Avarons might be using it to speak? How did I not detect it?_ She was not so amateurish as to overlook it, either. Detection spells were only as great as the one who casted them, and she had much to her millennia-long life. Excusing for a moment _that_ problem, it did nothing to answer a second Avaron showing up.

For as endlessly frustrating and dangerous it all turned out to be, Nuala couldn’t help nibbling her lip. Angling closer to the mirror, she drank in every sight her magic showed, all sorts of questions circling her mind. How did those new tentacle creatures come into existence? Why were there vats full of body parts? How did the whole place get made in the first place? Nevermind the obvious of two Avarons and their apparent mind magic, either. So many questions, such a vast and tempting unknown before her.

Divine heroines were nothing special to her; Nuala reached through the library that was her own mind. She’d met dozens of all kinds over time, but all of them fit into very _predictable_ patterns. Those who accepted their fate or rejected it; those who took to the blade, bow, shield, or other martial weapons. Once she saw a few defining points, the rest of the heroine always became that much easier to figure out.

Not Avaron.

The woman-creature had a mannerism to her that defied expectation. Not a whimpering child, nor self-righteous fighter. She had a plan, and all sorts of unknowable knowledge to make it happen. The knowledge of another world and all its mysterious history.

Nuala let out a growling moan, squeezing herself tight and clawing at her face.

_I could learn a thousand years from just her!_

If the tentradom hadn’t already utilized mind magic, she might dare ripping it out herself. Alas, someone with that kind of capability would destroy themselves first. Killing them and no knowledge to be gained; there were simpler ways to do that. No, if she wanted Avaron’s knowledge, she needed another way to get to it. Something that would ensure all those wonderful secrets would be hers.

And so Nuala thought, long and hard, watching Avaron all the while.

*~*

It was funny how mundane it all felt. The horse beneath her, the rattling of armor both her own and others, the hot air, the wind that blissfully blew …

If one took the day for what it was and nothing else, just another day out on an excursion.

No matter how she tried to frame it, Arzha could not escape the dark clouds upon her. She and the rest of her Snowflake Knights continued on, accompanied by a fair couple dozen servants and porters. Their small caravan had been dressed in the greens and reds of the _Holminster Company_ , a modest trade organization she’d long held control over. At the least, having business in many neighboring countries, they would not be immediately signaled out by the invading armies. Of course, that mattered little to those seeking riches, pillaging and raping as they pleased.

She could only hope their fortunes were _just_ good enough.

For whatever good that counted for anymore.

Hands upon the horse’s reins, her gloves tightened, fists far too sore to continue white-knuckling as they had been. All the same her anger remained, the rage and nerve-wracking convulsions that left her light headed and ill in the stomach. Arzha reached up and scratched her makeup-free face, eyes sunken and visage terribly taut from sleepless nights. From the corner of her eye she caught Saryl coming closer, her own tired but worry-stricken face all too obvious.

“Your Highness …” Saryl started, but whatever nerve she worked up had evaporated.

“What?” Arzha said, the snappish bite even obvious to her. Saryl hardly flinched at it.

“There’s a spring nearby we need to rest at.”

“Very well. The usual watch and guard rotation.”

“Certainly.”

They all pulled up near in a reasonably clear area, trees offering cover in the sparse forest they moved through. Much of the way to the northeast, depending on the route, was grasslands or heavily forested areas. They’d snuck through the latter, until they were far enough away from the capital to afford the former. The signs of passing armies were everywhere, for so many soldiers and their supplies left long-lasting scars in the earth.

A constant, careful maneuvering around invisible enemies.

Arzha hadn’t gotten such scarce sleep since the fortress siege she was caught up in a few years ago. A proxy army attacking their allies in the south had meant to punch a hole in the line. Two whole months of blockading, catapults, sappers, and so much more. At least she hadn’t need deal with the stench of people trapped in a rock tomb.

Sitting on a crate of supplies, Arzha cradled her head in her hands, trying to find a moment of quiet for herself. Such were the whispers of her own mind she couldn’t help pulling up and looking at her hands. Powerful hands, well-kept though no one could see it in her gloves. With the right weapons she’d be a living weapon, fearsome enough to make an army pause. Indeed, her’s was the sword that would keep Artor safe and victorious.

And she could only walk away.

Her father was right, it was the smart move to make.

It didn’t keep the ulcer-forming acid in her stomach down any easier.

Approaching footsteps made her draw up properly, and she saw Haleen with two mugs in her hands. One was held in a silent offer, and Arzha took it. A simple tea drink, barely at all tasteful but enough to distract her mind. Refreshing warmth filled her already hot and sweaty body, the aches of constant moving all the more apparent.

“My lady …”

“What is it?” Arzha said, more controlled in tone.

“Forgive my insolence, but I still cannot support this idea.”

“I do not blame you.”

“Bringing _these items_ with us to that … creature, it is …” Haleen, ever obedient, had trouble voicing her dissent against Arzha sometimes. In the wake of their entire kingdom crumbling, she came off as even more uncertain of her footing. The princess held up her hand, and as a dog would, Haleen bowed her head into it. Rub and pet; a simple, reassuring gesture.

“It was not my first choice, but it is the best among them,” Arzha said. “For how ever many cousins or families-in-law I may have, us and our artifacts will be cut up and sold like meat. At the least, even if Avaron does not want them, we can hand them over to the elvetahn.”

“To surrender the pride of our kingdom, though …” Haleen grumbled, utterly sour in the face.

“It is a burden I will bear, but all the better that none be allowed to use them. In this, our honor is kept even if no one is left to remember.”

They were all knights; their destiny was to protect Artor to the bitter end. But above all else, they served her, the first princess, and she had a noble duty to fulfill. Even if she, like them, belonged at the forefront of a hopeless battlefield.

In the end, everything that happened did so because she had been too weak to stop it.

And that fact would never change.

For better or worse, their journey to the northeast proceeded onward. Day and night, week after week, they moved and ate on the go, barely at all resting. The serving girls and boys loyal to Arzha, unused to such hardships, slowed them down the most. Still, she did what she could to keep their spirits going. Perhaps the goddesses were kind, at least enough to leave their journey uneventful. They ran across kagr roaming around, which was quite an odd sight in the woodlands to see, but nothing else.

Thanks to Avaron’s letter, she had a decent idea where the tentradom at setup shop. The river they now followed headed toward the ending reaches of a mountain range, straddling the border between the elvetahn’s Alva Forest and the northeastern-most human queendoms. Something of a wild land, it acted as a natural barrier between the two so not accidental contact happened. None dare offend the elvetahn, save the Empire and its overly ambitious aims. For a war that was supposedly going on so fearsomely, she hadn’t seen much evidence of it.

In all likelihood, it was farther away, though Arzha had no idea if it was deeper within the Alva Forest or the Empire.

A whistling sound ripped her back to reality, the distinctive noise of an arrow. It shot into the ground in front of her, the leader of the caravan, gleaming with a distinctive silver polish and opulent, iridescent feathers. She threw up a hand immediately, ordering a halt with her unspoken-for fist.

An arrow of a queen’s guard—the elvetahn queen’s!

What in the world?

Straddling the edge of a forest, there were few trees to hide in nearby, but she had no doubt that many elvetahn awaited within.

“What is your business?!” a boyish sounding voice came from the trees, hardened with experience such a sound shouldn’t have.

At the least, Arzha had a direction to shout in. “I am Princess Arzha of Artor, come to meet the woman Avaron who lives in a cave nearby!”

Her words hung in the air.

“You will wait there,” the hidden elvetahn said.

“So it is heard,” Arzha returned. Turning over her shoulder, she nodded to her knights and servants, who made themselves comfortable waiting on the spot. Try as Arzha might in the interim, she couldn’t see any of the elvetahn undoubtedly still around them. Whether through magic or skill, their reputation for being unseen in their forest was markedly deserved.

Movement from ahead caught her eyes, a bewildering sight skittering into view. An enormous, spider-like creature walked across the soft-dirt of the river bank, flanked by the opulently armored elvetahn guards. For what beauty they had, she found herself more concerned by the porcelain-like creature that dwarfed them! It made even her horses seem small by comparison! The closer it came, the better she saw its natural armor, finer in its smoothness and sharp curves than any plate mail she’d worn before.

“Oh, princess Arzha!” came a familiar voice from atop the massive creature. Avaron popped up, quite evidently riding atop the spider. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“You keep the oddest company, Avaron,” Arzha returned, having trouble believing what she was seeing.

“Oh you know, things happened. You look like hell worn over.”

“I do not know of this hell you speak of, but the journey here was not easy if that is what you mean.”

“Yeah, that. Captain, it’s not a problem if she and hers decide to stay here.”

A man beside Avaron nodded, his whole body shrouded in splendorous armor. “I understand. Princess Arzha, forgive the rudeness, but we will need to inspect you and yours thoroughly.”

“If it is the Queen’s guard who needs do so, I shall be glad for such experienced supervision. Know that the wagons behind us contain powerful artifacts of Artor, from the King’s Vault itself.”

“I must ask why you transport such dangerous items here.”

Arzha paused for a moment, the answer simple to say, but each word heavy like iron upon her tongue. “Artor has fallen; our neighbors invade and plunder our kingdom to the grave.” She smiled ruefully. “As First Princess, it fell to me by my father, the King, to see these artifacts spirited to safety. I am hopeful your graceful queen may accept them.”

“I cannot speak for Her Majesty, but I shall convey your wishes to her personally. Please, accompany me as we inspect these artifacts for Her safety.”

“I understand.”

*~*

Arzha knew she was in an inn, even if she didn’t know the exact style of it. Sharply defined spaces accentuated by curves, pristine, fresh oak-wood punctuated by light-green paper colored walls. It felt odd, like a mixing of two opposing forces into one queer harmony. The half-sunken tables and seats into the ground were definitely an eastern style of Kitinchi. She’d dealt with such once before, but seeing and sitting in it here had been most unexpected.

“Your meal,” the high-pitched voice of the inn’s keeper drew Arzha from her stupor. Dressed in the full-bodied cloth of Kitinchi, the white fabric was adorned in wonderful blue and red flowers, quite stark next to her lilac-colored skin. The tora woman easily set down three trays, containing bowls of soup, plates of thinly cut meat, and even … worms? No, noodles, they were noodles—another northeastern dish.

“Thank you,” Arzha said, bowing her head.

Really, the whole situation was just … odd.

Opposite of her sat Avaron in a sheer, but opaque elvetahn-styled dress. She looked no worse for wear, even expectant of the food.

To her left, however, sat a living legend. The ethereally beautiful elvetahn queen herself, Efval Gladestride, adorned in a blooming dress. The yellow petals surrounded her shoulders and dipped down her chest, grandly open in their inviting offer to gaze upon the queen’s pristine skin. A hint of modesty came in how they curved down her breasts, perfectly sculpting them in a plump, upward offering that anyone looking at would be compelled to touch. Or bury their face in. All this, to speak nothing of her smooth hair falling down either side of that fearsomely sharp face.

Arzha had been around beautiful women all her life—human women.

The queen was a world of her own, and Arzha feared she would stare too much and offend her.

Efval Gladestride, legendary queen of the elvetahn. Direct descendent of their own goddesses, and a warrior who had out lived more queendoms than Arzha could be bothered to name.

What was this table? What in the world was going on anymore?

“Thank you, Tsugumi,” Avaron said, flashing a smile at the tora hostess.

“Please, enjoy,” the tora, Tsugumi, said with a smile, her pronounced fangs quite at odds with her curling lips. With a bow, she stood up properly and shuffled away, her sandals inordinately loud in the deathly quiet air around them.

“I do love her cooking. She and Gwyneth have the oddest recipes but they always taste good,” Avaron gushed immediately, picking up a pair of sticks. Very smooth, neatly cut and obvious made sticks, but sticks nonetheless. Arzha had no idea how she handled them so deftly, moving meat from one plate to the noodles’ bowl. “Now I think it’s a bit too early to be drinking alcohol, but if you two want some …”

“I shall decline,” Efval said, polite in tone if not face. She was not one to smile at all, not even for conversational sake it seemed.

“I as well,” Arzha said.

“Fair enough. I really do need to make something better than just booze to drink. Never thought I’d miss soda of all things …”

“Soda?” Efval echoed, shapely brow curling upward.

“It’s—I don’t know how to describe it, actually. It’s a fizzy drink that’s sweet and has a lot of flavors. Much more fun than water without the problems of booze.”

“Sugar would certainly make it more expensive,” Arzha pointed out, much to Avaron’s sudden pause and look of realization.

“Oh, you’re right. Sugar is probably quite rare in this world still?”

Arzha and Efval nodded.

“Well, that’s an easy problem to fix at least.”

“… How do you mean?” Arzha couldn’t help asking.

“I know of some ways to make sugar cheaply, is all. Come to think of it that will make desserts much easier to make as well.”

“Were you in Artor, those words alone would throw all the merchants upside down,” Arzha said dryly.

“Life’s funny like that. Let’s eat a bit here.”

Both Efval and her used much more normal spoons and forks, delicately setting about their own food. Avaron, by comparison, started eating without any sense of proper manners. It wasn’t _disgusting_ , but in the realm of courtly behaviors it was deserving of slaps from the discipline stick. But, if the queen did not claim, Arzha would not say a word about it. The food tasted different—wonderful in a way of eating something solid, covered in exotic flavors she wasn’t quite ready to contend with.

It offered a moment of reprieve, something to busy her mind on and shut out the world for a minute.

That, by far, was the most relaxing time she’d had in weeks. A shivering relief crept through her whole being, an ease of finally letting the tensions bleed out. Perhaps her sighing would’ve been improper to do, but Arzha indulged in her selfish desires just this once. Well, and the other times too, but she was eating at a queen’s table. Did it really matter anymore, when she had no kingdom to inherit? No throne awaiting her beautiful butt?

Ah, her frustrations were returning again.

“I was told of what you said, but I rather hear the words for you,” Efval said, setting down a soup bowl as she regarded Arzha. “About the fate of Artor, that is.”

“I understand. To give Your Majesty context, then …” Arzha started recounting from around the time of the heroines’ summoning, painting the very nervous behavior of their fellow queendoms. In a way, summarizing the most stressful moments of her life so succinctly really did sound surreal. Yet nonetheless she kept on, detailing her brother’s moronic regicide and up to the full-scale mobilization of their neighbors. “… and finally, my father, the King, ordered me to flee with our kingdom’s relics.”

“It is odd to me that I am the first one you consider giving them to,” Efval said.

“In utter fairness, Your Majesty, I considered Avaron first, for a divine heroine may find best use for them. In lieu of that, I believed the noble elvetahn to be best to safe guarding them from improper usage.”

“Knowing that even we, amidst our own war against a human empire?”

“The Empire’s odd behavior only tells me if sudden and dramatic problems within it. The emperor’s family was not so brutish when I studied there.”

“You studied in the Empire?” Avaron asked, cutting in.

“Indeed. They have—or had, at least—some of the finest schools to attend. A sentiment I can only agree with, for even in Artor, our education was quite poor by comparison.”

“Did you happen to meet the Emperor or anyone else?”

Arzha shook her head. “Although I met many children of nobility, they left to meet their families. Not much happened in the Academy otherwise.”

“Mm, interesting. Then, you have no clue as to why the Empire suddenly began its offensive?”

“I do not. It has always felt … strange. Although ruled by an iron-hand, the people of the Empire did not care for expansion or anything outside of its borders. If anything, like Artor, it was content to sit idly by and focus internally.”

“That keeps popping up whenever I investigate. How atypical the Empire’s aggression is.” Avaron looked over at Efval. “Based on what you told me about the _nagraki_ , it remains an easy explanation but …”

“I begrudgingly acknowledge it may be simple human tendency as well.” Efval waved a hand dismissively. “More than once a peaceful land has turned to war because of a new leader. You cannot deny their aggression toward us—and the great overreaching they did—is not telling.”

“No, I agree. The nagraki would want to remove their greatest enemy first.”

“Until my spies uncover more, we remain where we are.”

“Forgive my ignorance, I do not know of these nagraki you speak of,” Arzha said, making Avaron do a double-take.

“Ah, right, sorry. They’re a super ancient race of dark and evil beings—”

“They are not dark,” Efval cut in.

“I’m sorry?”

“They are neither of the light nor dark. The nagraki arise from _naki_ , the essence of their evil god.”

“I’m not seeing what the difference is here.”

“All life has its roots in the essences, of which light and dark are apart of. The naki is an invasive essence, from which nagraki are born of. It is not a natural thing in our world.”

Avaron squinted, brow furrowing. “Where did it come from, then?”

“Haska. Where Haska came from, not even we know.”

“… I see.”

Arzha sat up a bit. “And these nagraki you speak of, they are enemies of the elvetahn?”

Efval gave the slightest, regal nod. “Yes, our oldest of enemies since when we first became elvetahn. They seek to make our world theirs, utilizing corruption and vile magic. It is often their trickery to assume other forms, influence vulnerable minds, and manipulate people into a weaker, more controllable position.”

Never had Arzha heard of such beings, and the queen of the elvetahn was no liar or fool. Not unless the world truly made no sense at all anymore. Yet, if she took it utmost seriously, a disturbing number of things started clicking into place.

Like a puzzle missing a part she didn’t know was gone.

Holding a hand to her chin, she thought deeply on the matter.

“Princess Arzha, what weighs upon your mind?” Efval asked, her voice unyielding in its expectation.

“My brother, who committed regicide, remained missing even as I left.” Arzha looked up, regarding the queen. “What if it wasn’t him who did so?”

“You presume a nagraki impersonated him?”

“If these creatures had a goal to tear down Artor, they surely succeeded in doing so.”

“Forgive the undue harshness of my question,” Avaron said, “but if they wanted to, what would be the point? What is there to gain from destroying Artor?”

“We are the greatest human kingdom outside of the Empire,” Arzha said, no small amount of pride in her voice. “It is we who keep the peace and balance in our neighbors, so that no more wars have come.”

“Ah, then that makes you a perfect target.”

“Quite.”

“If the Empire is a thrall, then all the more,” Efval added, headed tilted as she held her chin contemplatively. “It would ensure any westward invasion would be that much easier. In the nagraki’s spitting-drool desire for domination, it fits their behavior quite well.”

“Ah, hold on, let’s eat some more. Tsugumi will kill me if we waste her cooking,” Avaron said hurriedly, already going to eat again.

Arzha, rather caught off by the suddenness of the suggestion, slowly nodded and resumed. A calm, quiet eating followed, until Avaron started slurping up the noodles. Like actually slurping. Loud, noisy slurping. In front of a princess; a queen of ageless wisdom, power, and beauty. They both stared at the tentradom, who looked up, noodles hanging out of her mouth like strands of rope. She hurriedly bit of and swallowed what she had, letting the rest back in the bowl.

“Ahm rught, huld on,” she said through a mouthful of a food before swallowing. “It’s considered good manners to slurp noodles, I’ll have you know.”

Neither she nor Efval looked at all believing of the idea.

“I’m serious! I’m not that thoughtlessly braindead, thanks!” Avaron chirped with indignation.

“Heh.” Arzha shook her head, finding contentment in just eating for the time being.

Later, when they’d eaten most of everything, Efval spoke up first. “In handing over your kingdom’s relics to me, you understand all claims upon them will be forfeit.”

“I do not have the means to protect them,” Arzha said simply. “At the least, this ensures the honor of our kingdom is safe in some way. Knowing now of these nagraki creatures, it does not escape me that perhaps they sought out some of them.”

“… Indeed, that thought occurred to me as well. Then, I shall accept all relics you relinquish to me, on behalf of the elvetahn.”

Arzha bowed her head. “I thank Her Majesty for accepting this burden.”

“We will all become comrades in arms once again, I suspect,” Efval said before taking a sip of her drink. “The return of the nagraki, a highborn nonetheless, heralds a new age. They will wage war upon our world once more.”

Arzha shifted uneasily upon her seat, but courage was ever in her reach. “Forgive my impudence beneath your unfathomable skill, but I want to be of assistance in this. It is my honor to fight those who brought my kingdom to ruin.”

“Mm.” Efval, inscrutable in her look, gazed upon Arzha. Whether for appraisal or something else, the princess was not certain. The queen then turned toward Avaron. “Surprisingly, it would be useful to me if the princess were to help you, Avaron.”

“Oh?” Avaron returned, sounding utterly suspicious. Whether of Arzha or Efval, no one could tell. “I had meant to lend her lodgings to repay my debt, but what gives you such confidence?”

“She is not incapable, and I will be taking Nuala with me for the winter months. You are in need of some guard before I return in the spring.”

“What a glowing review,” Avaron deadpanned, but nonetheless nodded.

Arzha, caught between queer jubilance at such praise and Avaron’s own brutish behavior, sat there stupid for a moment. She was nothing if not quick to recover. “I thank Her Majesty. I shall do my utmost to ensure Avaron’s protection until your return.”

_It is also an opportunity for much needed rest and assessment,_ she thought, already working out what to do for the upcoming months. _Although I will not hear much out here. If I increase trade to that nearby town, then I will still have ears …_

“Ah, well, so be it. It’d would’ve been nicer for you to visit under better circumstances, princess Arzha,” Avaron said, a bit sheepish. “I’ll do my best to accommodate.”

“I thank you, Avaron.”

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.6) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.22) – Refugee Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.15) – Brood Mother (lv.2)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) -- Desperate Magi


	28. Level Up Schemes

_Growth can be measured in any number of ways._

*~*

Staring up at the dimly lit ceiling, Avaron let out a long, deflating sigh. A giggle sounded from her right, and a naked, scar-ridden body squeezed into her. That Gwyneth’s pregnant belly forced her angle to change did little to impede the lascivious cuddling she did. In the same stroke, the naked Tsugumi squirmed in closer, and Avaron found herself half-buried under squirming, lustful beauties who were doing the very opposite thing of trying to ‘rest’.

“You two,” she growled and grabbed their butts from underneath, squeezing heartily much to their happy little gasps and jerks. “You still want more?”

“Maybe,” Tsugumi enthused with a sidelong glance from some of her eyes.

“If thou wisheth,” Gwyneth echoed, rubbing her fingers in a tempting circle around Avaron’s breast.

_It’s not like I can’t keep going, and that’s the scary part,_ Avaron mused. Her fleshy bed was strewn in puddles and strands of still-warm cum, Gwyneth and Tsugumi as well half-plastered in the stuff. Neither one could move without a little airy gasp and a squirt out between their legs, a river of flowing stickiness gushing out gently. _Ah, stop moving like that!_ she wanted to say as her two mates kept rubbing up against her. Fuck, it distracted her something fierce.

“Give me a few minutes then,” Avaron said with a chuckle.

“Is the _divine heroine_ tired?” Tsugumi whispered with far too much smugness in her voice. A squealing chirp escaped her at the sudden, gentle slap on her butt, and she stared at Avaron bug-eyed for a moment.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Avaron grumbled, one eye watching her lazily. “I’ll wear you out before I’m done.”

“Is that true?” Gwyneth asked shyly.

“Not you too.”

“I-if thou does not mind …”

What a problem to have, two insatiable beauties. If she had still been human it might actually have been an issue. Avaron rolled her eyes. “I don’t mind. Any time, any where. More importantly, I think I leveled up again.”

“Thou leveled up from …?”

“It’s what my kind does.”

“Oh. Interesting!” Gwyneth’s cute little exclamation followed her excited wiggling.

She really was just adorable in her enthusiasm. Ah, Avaron was thinking about those little squeaks from fucking her again. “Okay, okay,” she said, raising her hands and rubbing both their heads. “Give me a minute to see what is different.”

They both grumbled but, laying on her body and groping, they were content to be little perverts still.

_Now, howse it going, info-screen I haven’t seen in a dozen chapters … Oh, I’m level 4 now. I jumped straight up two whole levels, how did that happen? No, wait, I knocked them up three times in total … huh._ Every time she knocked up someone, her level went up? No, that would’ve ridiculous. Maybe it was an early starter bonus? Or everything else she’d been doing in the interim helped as well. _Whatever. Two level ups is a great opportunity. Hey, everyone, get in here!_

The weight of other minds suddenly pressed in, oogling her thoughts and senses as she did theirs.

(What is it, Medusa?) Iris asked the thoughts the other eight shared.

(Level up time, let’s see how it works with all of us.)

(It says I have two level ups waiting here,) remarked Weaver. The others affirmed the same.

(Then shall I do it, or one of you?) Prime asked.

(Let me do it,) Cypher said. (If it doesn’t share out evenly, I can make use of at least one of the attributes.)

(Alright. Magic, isn’t it?)

(Magic.)

(Go ahead and bump it up with one point.)

Medusa watched as her stat screen changed, her magical power raising from ‘nearly nothing’ to ‘a little bit’. All very relative, she had no idea what the stats actually meant still. (I’m seeing a change here.)

(As am I.) They all checked in, confirming the same.

(So we effectively share a single character sheet,) Prime said, followed by a thoughtful hum. (Interesting.)

(Because of our Hive Mind?) Corena asked.

(It is likely.)

(Hey, I’m seeing an upgrade for the Hive Mind skill.)

(… What?) The other nine asked at Iris’ sudden statement.

(There’s two branching options,) Medusa noted, staring at the screen. (You all switch over and look too.)

What awaited read to her eyes quite innocuously.

[Choose the Following Branch to level up your skill, Hive Mind]

[Hive Unity: A portion of the Hive Queen’s skills and attributes is dispersed evenly throughout the Hive.]

[Chosen of the Hive: A single drone may be selected to receive massive increase in power and attributes. This effect cannot be done more than once every few days.]

(This seems like a trap,) Cypher remarked after a brief silence in the Hive Mind.

(How so?) asked Aegis.

(Economies of scale. What good is a single super drone, compared to all our drones becoming stronger?)

(Keep in mind heroines and other wild shit exist in this world,) Abyssa cut in. (Our legions may not be strong enough, even with numbers, to defeat someone truly powerful.)

(That …) Cypher’s sour response petered off.

(I am thinking the Hive Unity branch is better), Medusa offered. (It would help us fight armies and larger groups, which has been our main concern from the start.)

(Hold on. Medusa, asked Tsugumi about branching paths in skills. She might know something,) Prime ordered.

“Hey, Tsu,” Avaron said, breaking the air filled with lovely breathing and squirming flesh.

“Hm?”

“Maybe Gwyneth too. What is a branching path in a skill level up mean?”

Tsugumi jolted and partly picked herself up, staring with incredulity at Avaron. “You have a branching path already?”

“Yeeessss?” Avaron said suspiciously, making all six of Tsugumi’s eyes frown. “There’s two options but I don’t know why they showed up.”

“That is … strange. A branching path is the result of intense training and focus, complete control over a skill. I have never heard of it showing up outside of such endeavors.”

“It isn’t possible for skills to branch natively?”

“I do not know of it.”

“Hmm. Gwyneth?”

“Tis as she says.”

“Alright, thanks. Guess I have to make a choice on it then.”

(So the obvious is, which path can we live with picking?) Prime asked the other nine consciousnesses.

(I think it will be Hive Unity,) Aphora offered.

(Why?)

(Think about it. The Hive Growth is also part of the Hive. If a piece of our skill, [Divine Regeneration], can work for it, and all our drones …)

A rolling wave of realization swept through the Hive Mind.

(Not only is our fighting power increased,) Iris said, (our healthiness, resilience, and everything else is strengthened.)

(Exactly,) Aphora said. (A champion of the Hive is great and all, but it’d be easier for us to deal with that kind of problem differently. Hive Unity takes off all the stress of health management, or at least a lot of it.)

(I’m concerned how much of our power transfers over, exactly,) Venus remarked. (But there’s no way to tell, nor can we see how much ‘massive improvement’ affects a drone, either.)

(A vote then, all for Hive Unity?) Prime asked. Despite the feelings of reservations some of them held, they generally agreed upon, and so Medusa selected the branching path.

(Although I am curious how this is different from just normal gene introduction,) she mused.

(It may not take up space in the DNA and let—) Cypher’s words cut out as a seizure gripped the entirety of the Hive Mind. Every Avaron grit her teeth and winced, a tremendous wave of _something_ passing through them of the utmost discomfort. Medusa herself found a slap to the face and a startling awareness back in the bed, Tsugumi and Gwyneth looking at her.

“What happened?” she said, rubbing her cheek.

“You started trembling and shaking,” Tsugumi said, not at all in the cute fuck-me voice like before.

“Oh. Yeah. I picked that branching path and, fuck. I was not expecting that.”

Tsugumi let out a dramatic sigh. “You idiot. A branching path is a tremendous alignment of one’s internal energy. Some can render you unconscious for days.”

“Oh.”

(Everyone, how is everyone?) Medusa probed. Gradually, the rest of them started coming back into focus. Somewhere between black out drunk and a hangover, none of them felt all that pleasant.

(Ugh, what the fuck?) Weaver groused before the conversation with Tsugumi permeated the Mind. (Oh, that’s why.)

(Guess we’ll need to be careful about this in the future,) Prime mused, sounding tired. (If we go down then the whole Hive may go feral.)

(It doesn’t seem there is anything else for this level up,) Iris interjected.

(Should we do the next one now, then?)

(Might as well,) Abyssa offered.

And so, Medusa went back to the attribute screen. (Resilience still?)

(No, what about strength? The Hive shares in our stats now,) Iris said.

(Hold on, we should figure out how Hive Unity works exactly. That is a good point,) Prime said.

(Fine, you all work on it. I got pussy to eat here,) Medusa grumbled and ‘pulled out’ of the conversation. One could not truly leave it, but as one focused attention elsewhere, tuning out the noise was another matter. It was more a matter of the others not jabbing her mind suddenly than anything. Patting Tsugumi and Gwyneth on the shoulders, she said, “Sorry about that. Looks like I’m around level 4 now.”

“T-truly?!” Gwyneth squeaked, clapping her hands together. “Tis wonderous to become so strong that quick!”

“… Is it?” Avaron asked leerily. “I don’t feel that strong.”

“If you fought someone of appropriate level, it will become obvious,” Tsugumi said, finger-combing her messy hair. “I caution you from speaking of your level casually. It will invite danger.”

“I get it. It’s related to my skills, but have you two gone up in level at all?”

They both paused very much like people focusing on an item of interest. Tsugumi’s brows knitted together as Gwyneth giggled and clapped her hand. “Verily!” she gushed. “I am level 7 now! Oh, there is much for me to do!”

“I am … level 16 now …” Tsugumi said, sounding quite bemused by the idea.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Avaron asked, only to find Tsugumi suck in a deep breath. The tora turned toward her, six eyes half-lidded but for how tempting of a sight she was, Avaron only felt danger. Two hands slapped down on her shoulders, the other two her arms. “Uhh—”

“Do you know how much I had to work! How much I had to do!” Tsugumi yelled, shaking Avaron like a tree knocker going for apples. “It took me two years to get from 13 to 14! You fuck me and now I’m 16?!?”

Back and forth Avaron shook, slapping against the bedding with wet smacks as her words garbled into nonsense.

“You! What kind of tentacle do you have?! Outrageous! Unfair! Cheater!!”

The two stopped at Gwyneth sudden squeal, an embarrassed noise accompanied by her handing her face in her hands. They looked over, the priestess practically in the middle of a full body blush. “I am not!” she whispered hotly under her breath. The bouncing flame atop her lovely tits sparkled and flared, as if speaking. “Tis not true!” she bit back.

“What’s wrong, Gwyneth?” Avaron asked, hair messy and all over her face.

“A-Avaron, it is not true, right?!”

“The who and the what now?”

“That—that I am, that …” Gwyneth sputtered, wringing her hands together.

“What, pregnant?” Avaron deadpanned, looking at the priestess’ comfortably round belly.

“No! A cum slut!”

“A cum … slut.”

“Pfft.” Tsugumi’s cheeks ballooned. “Did you really get that [Skill]?”

“T-thou knoweth of it!” Gwyneth screeched, pointing accusingly at the tora woman. Tsugumi, however, coolly looked at her own finger nails, suddenly interested in them.

“A skill called [Cum Slut]?” Avaron repeated dubiously, making Gwyneth try and curl up. Being pregnant, she ended up doing an odd curling of the knees and burying her head down between her arms. “Why would that even be a [Skill]?”

“If dear Gwyneth decides to illuminate us to it …” Tsugumi said, her factual voice undermined by the raw teasing it held.

“Noo!” the priestess squeaked, a near full body blush overcoming her.

_I’m missing something here,_ Avaron thought, bemused by the ridiculous scene in front of her. With a dramatic sigh, she grabbed Gwyneth and dragged the curled up woman into her arms. Petting her head and rubbing her arm, she made an effort to comfort Gwyneth. “There there, it’s fine.”

The priestess grumbled and moaned out a whine.

“I don’t think any less of you for having it, if you’re worried about that.”

“Ah—oh, really?” Gwyneth asked lightly.

“No, some women are into that after all,” Avaron said with the utmost polite voice one could have. “Still, I’m rather concerned how it came about.”

“Is it not obvious?” Gwyneth remarked gloomily.

“Is it that important?” Tsugumi asked, which stirred Gwyneth to look up, for however impossible it was to see Avaron holding her.

“Somewhat. I would’ve thought it was a [Skill] I imparted, like [Brood Mother]. But you’ve encountered it before—” Avaron said, eying Tsugumi, “—which means it’s a normal [Skill]. I thought they were important things to gain?”

“They are.”

“Then how is something like [Cum Slut] significant enough to be a skill?”

“That … ehm, quite depends on Gwyneth telling us exactly. I never knew of what it entailed outside the name.”

The priestess grumbled and squirmed in Avaron’s arms, not unlike someone stubbornly refusing to do something. “It would help me, Gwyneth,” Avaron said seriously, rubbing her shoulders.

“Nnn!” Gwyneth growled in her throat, wriggling angrily. “F-fine! But thou cannot laugh at mine expense!”

“I won’t, promise.”

“Then, mine skill says …”

[Cum Slut

You a patron of cum sluttery, finding utmost enjoyment in consuming, wearing, and playing with cum of men and women. Sex starved people will naturally be attracted to you. The less clothes you wear, the more appealing you will become. Imbibing or wearing fresh cum routinely will improve your magical power. The flavor of cum will improve dramatically, be sure to drink lots you slut!]

Avaron sat there, utterly bewildered. “It says all of that?”

Gwyneth nodded demurely.

“What the fuck?” Avaron said, shaking her head. “That hardly makes any sense! How is that a [Skill]?”

“It is most likely the improved magical power and the, erm, seduction aspect,” Tsugumi offered, even her amused teasing sounding a bit stiff.

“Still … that’s … hardly useful?”

“It is, quite for—ehm, whores and the like.”

“This world has magical whores?”

“Although it is not considered a proper magical art, there are a variety of seductive powers out there.” Tsugumi gave Avaron a boring look. “The strongest of which your kind are known to have.”

“That—alright, fair enough.”

“Tis most likely a boon from a goddess of lust and desires,” Gwyneth interjected with a tired voice.

“… Oh really?” Avaron said, eyes narrowing.

“Some divine beings are known to bless mortals, yes,” Tsugumi said in an agreeing tone.

“… What about negative ones?”

“I do not understand?”

“Suppose someone was afflicted with a negative skill,” Avaron said, adjusting her sitting to be more comfortable. “An evil god doing it, or someone suffering the utmost horrible treatment for a long time. Would they get a negative skill from it?”

Tsugumi frowned, seeming quite thoughtful on the matter.

“I know of some curses,” Gwyneth said, becoming a bit more upbeat. “But such afflictions are temporary. A [Skill] that remains harmful to the one who has it is … I have not heard of it.”

“But it’s not impossible, either,” Avaron pointed out. Neither of the two women really disagreed. “That is what concerns me about this system and how it works. For as much as it can help, it seems like it could harm too.”

“It is how life is,” Tsugumi said matter-of-factly.

_For you,_ Avaron wanted to say, but kept the words to herself. _But I know better._ Shifting her weight, she coughed into her hand politely, staring at Gwyneth from the corner of her eye. “Sooo … I take it you want to suck my tenty a little bit?”

The priestess let out the cutest, frustrated whine—a mix of lighthearted anguish, desire, and begrudging acknowledgement.

*~*

The hot sun overhead shined down brightly, still air and cloudless skies giving that beautiful summer-esque day. A tinge of cold hung nonetheless, a hint of where the weather would go. Avaron found herself rather curious at the idea of approaching winter. _Does it snow here? Probably, this environment is pretty temperate._

(Hey, Iris or Cypher) Venus asked.

(What is it?) Iris answered first.

(How resilient are we, and the Hive, to freezing temperatures?)

(The underground portions should be fairly resilient, it’s a self-contained environment. Everything else … I’m not sure. The tentaclelings will probably freeze to death,) Iris said, musingly. (We’re not very insulating, no fur and a lot of exposed muscles. It keeps us cool very easily but almost no heat retention.)

(We should work on that immediately,) Cypher cut in. (It’s a serious weakness.)

(I agree,) Iris and a few others chimed in. (Well, more genome studying then, I guess. I’ll take a look at the wolves and boars we’ve been eating.)

Of course there remained the problem of their farming attempts. They were heading into a freeze and nothing they had would grow, which meant that whole job was on hold. In theory it meant more time for R&D on potential plant crops, but that required live testing—

(I can still do hydroponics down here, you know,) Aphora cut in.

(Not exactly indicative of a workable product though, is it?) Venus shot back.

(Well they’re not going to be normal regardless. We might be doing hydroponic just because it’s crazy efficient.)

(Can we even support something that complex?)

(It’s not actually that complex. The Hive Growth lets us cheat on it anyway.)

(Alright, whatever,) Venus grumbled. (I’ll look at it when I get inside.)

The sound of exertions reached her ears, women grunting and yelling in unison. Avaron looked over, staring down the path of the river. On the one side was Tsugumi’s work-in-progress inn, the other had something of a training field. The elvetahn workers had cleared it out, apparently. It must’ve been quick, the place had been a wild mess yesterday. Something of a bridge spanned the river, a quickly thrown but not inelegant solution spanning the waters. Avaron gave it an eyeful as she approached and stepped over, finding the wood quite smooth, the fitting perfect, and it felt most solid.

Arzha’s seven knights were arrayed before her, dressed in padded clothing and light chain mail. A training attire, perhaps, for Avaron had only ever seen them in their distinctive iron plate mail and its white and blue colors. They were practicing positions and maneuvers with long poles, a seriousness to their faces only soldiers wore easily. _How unusual of her,_ Avaron mused, thinking of Efval at the sight. _For one so angry she had surprising cordial behavior yesterday._

Why, she might never know.

It made being around her almost pleasant.

Arzha, who had been coordinating the maneuvers, looked over at her knight’s prompting. Their eyes met—insofar as eyes could at such an inconvenient distance that romantic comedy movies always ignored. Giving some commanding gestures, she then headed over, marching with that formal, dignified posture Avaron remembered seeing months ago. Despite the heaviness to her face, Arzha was quick to bounce back it seemed. Avaron gave a polite wave at her approach.

“Lady Avaron,” Arzha greeted amiably. “How are you on this day?”

“I am doing well. I was going to do a walk around the perimeter, see how things are.”

“I shall accompany you, then,” Arzha declared simply.

“Please, don’t let me interrupt your training.”

“It is no bother.”

Avaron resisted the urge to scratch her head. “Very well. Come along,” she said, beckoning. Together they headed out farther, toward the very distinct perimeter between cleared out land and wild nature. For Avaron, she already knew of the sentinel tentaclelings stationed around, watching and observed like unmoving cameras. There also remained the skeyes above them, a fair few couple dozen flying in large, sweeping patterns. Still, her information network was not perfect—it ever had gaps someone like Kagura could easily slip through.

The main virtue was the fact no one in the world had any idea she had such power. They wouldn’t hide properly from it as a consequence.

But only an idiot didn’t take precautions.

“How are your accommodations?” Avaron asked, looking out into the trees, shrubs, and other foliage.

“Refreshingly welcome. It has been weeks since we had a roof over our heads.”

“Mm. I am sorry you all have to cramp together in the main building like that.”

“It is no trouble,” Arzha said, though Avaron had trouble telling if she was just being polite. “Although I am concerned by one detail.”

_Ah, there it is._ Avaron looked over. “Oh?”

“That … water fountain, as you called it …” Arzha said, quite obviously choosing her words. “It does not taste like normal water.”

“Mmm, because it is pure.”

“Pure?”

Avaron gestured toward the river behind them. “That water, for the most part, is pretty clean. But it’s still full of things that affect its taste, and may also carry sickness. Not as much as others, so it’s ‘safe’, but not pure.” Pausing for a moment, she held her chin in thought. “I suppose you know about boiling water to help make it safe?”

“Of course.”

“The whole process of cleaning water is _filtering_ , and while you can’t see it, there’s a lot of filter work going on underneath our feet. The result is the pure water, so you don’t have to waste time constantly boiling it to avoid getting sick. The reason it tastes funny is because its lacking the things you normally drink in it.”

“I … see. I thank you for such a luxurious offering,” Arzha said, hand over her chest in a polite bow.

“It is no trouble. I am hopeful it’s something I can teach the rest of this world to do one day, but, alas.”

“Is it not terribly difficult to do?”

“Mmm, yes and no,” Avaron mumbled out, tilting her head side-to-side in thought. “The biggest problem is education. From what you said about Artor and the Empire, I take it only nobles know how to read and write?”

“There are the merchants and many shop owners, but it is not something taught to peasants or the poor. They’re not capable of learning it.”

“Ah, ahaha,” Avaron chuckled and slapped fist-to-palm. “I’ll have to disagree on that. It is difficult, of course. Not impossible, and not many are willing to invest into it.”

“What would be their purpose?” Arzha asked, lacking in the malice Avaron for some reason expected. “They have neither wealth nor land. They lack allegiances and connections, and offer nothing but taxes to the throne.”

“It is hard to imagine, I suppose. This world is very undeveloped and amidst uncertainty, you cling to what you know.” Avaron held up a finger and smiled at Arzha. “It is what is unknown that makes so much possible. But, more to the point, the mind is an intellectual field, one that does not care for wealth or connections. In my world, much of what we achieved came from the poor and the peasants.”

“… Truly?”

“Indeed. You are only one person, one mind. You can only think so much.” Avaron held her hands out in a wide, embracing gesture to the forest in front of them. “But a thousand minds all thinking like yours—perhaps better in some ways—and then so much becomes possible.”

“And how would that not bring a kingdom to ruin? A thousand more nobles with neither wealth nor power, coveting those who do …”

“You think ill of people, but in your kingdom as it stayed, it would bring ruin, yes. From the fires of revolution is a new kind of life born, one that can fit more educated people.” Avaron waved to move on, content with what she saw. “For example, in my world, the ways of kings and queens eventually fell into history.”

“Why is that?”

“As the lands expanded and swelled, the nature of power changed. A handful ruled over hundreds of thousands, then millions. They cared not for the many, and the many grew desperate, then overthrew the few. You see, they no longer wanted kings or queens they could not trust. So, they came up with a new idea—one where the many people ruled the land.”

“But if the greatest among them could not rule to their satisfaction, how is a mob any better?” Arzha asked, sounding quite at odds with the idea.

“Honestly it would take me weeks to really explain it, but … The many held a vote, and they _chose_ one to lead them. Then, these newly elected leaders formed cooperative groups, and focused on ruling the land. If one of them failed those who elected them, they would be voted out and a new person voted in.”

“That is even madder! How can one lead if their ill-taught peasants decide they don’t fit? They cannot understand the complexities of noble business. It would be like walking on glass!”

“That’s the point. If every leader is acting truly on behalf of their people, they will fear disappointing them. Thus, the will of the people is represented.” Avaron made a show of shrugging. “But you are right, some countries did not adopt it fully. For example, terms—once voted in they would stay in until the term was up, unless they did something criminal.”

“Now that does make far more sense …”

“As a princess yourself, I’m actually quite interested in knowing what you’d think about future forms of government,” Avaron said, looking over at her. “It might prove quite helpful in rebuilding your kingdom.”

“’Rebuilding’, as you say,” Arzha echoed, a rueful smile shadowing her grim face. “I am not so certain there will be a land left to do so.”

“I would like to believe so. So long as there is a powerful will like yours, and the desire to see it done, don’t be defeated yet. More than once in my world people in your circumstances have come back, far greater and grander than what they were before.”

“I shall take your words to heart, even if I struggle to believe them.”

Avaron chuckled. “I appreciate your frankness.”

*~*

“… thus, it seems Lilian has perished at the hands of the elvetahn,” came the rasping gasp, its voice ever rattling through the tubes and metals in its throat. In throwing a raggedy scroll of human-flesh across the table, the item unfurled fully, leading its cryptic words for all to see. “She is a miserable failure.”

“I don’t understand. Your bodies are virtually immortal!” another interjected, throwing his hand incredulously. “How can elves do anything too—”

“Your ignorance is horrendous to listen to,” the third cut him off, her scathing words colder than the stone around them. “Of all peoples, the elvetahn we fear the most. She was given ample power to subdue their weak forest, and now failing that—they stir once more!”

“If they are so dangerous, why did you not send me after them?”

“Because your talent is needed in the west still,” she said with a sigh. “Jorkof and Lilian in the east is more than enough with the Empire under control. Now she is gone and our control over the Emperor has vanished.”

“There are still powerful forces loyal to us,” Jorkof rasped out, raising a crooked hand gloved in black-leather. “I am salvaging who remains, but many were enthralled by Lilian.”

“Not to mention over NINETY PERCENT OF HER ARMY DYING!”

“Language, Pushee,” Jorkof rasped out, before a chortling laugh shook the entirety of its body. “It was not the enlightened who died. Our hold on the Empire is shaken, not lost.”

Rattling her fingers atop the meeting table, Pushee let out an exasperated sigh. “We have been exposed, Jorkof. Our plans are completely different now.”

“Enough is in place that even knowing us, the elvetahn cannot hope to succeed,” Jorkof pointed out. “I agree. We must move quickly and begin. If we do not, they will begin rebuilding their power once more.”

“At the least, Artor and its neighbors are no longer a problem.” Pushee looked over. “I will need you to see to the new heroines personally, Brandon. Moving them out of that war zone is proving more of a problem than I expected.”

“Did you not send an army there?”

“Yes, I didn’t expect the Ashmourn to intervene in the conflict. The Church was obligated to confront them, and they did considerable damage. I’m moving more armies in to crush them, but I have few on hand to protect the heroines.”

“It isn’t a short distance getting there!” Brandon said, throwing his arms out. “How am I suppose to—”

A flash of blinding white light enveloped him, and in the next moment he was gone.

“You know he hates that,” Jorkof said, ever difficult to discern in its inflections.

“Centuries later he is still slow on the uptake,” Pushee grumbled. “The other world truly creates bizarre people.”

“It does.”

“How did Lilian die, exactly?” she asked. “He was soft on her, but I have no care for his heart on this.”

A hissing suck and exhale followed before Jorkof said, “Her essence was broken. The direction she left behind tells me she went into the Heartwood.”

“Then we are in a much more serious problem if _that_ woman stirs.”

  
“Yes. It is inevitable at this point.” Jorkof stood up from its chair, heaving form rustling and jostling beneath its cloak. “Sooner than I wished for, but not unexpected. I will need to handle her remains before Brandon discovers what happened.”

“Be mindful, Jorkof.”

“She and I have old debts. You know how much I enjoy counting those.”

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.7) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.22) – Refugee Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.16) – Brood Mother (lv.2)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) -- Desperate Magi


	29. A Villainous Act

_Rare are those who are so luxuriously pure in their evil._

*~*

Tsugumi had never been summoned to a meeting in, well, such a place before. They were still in Avaron’s _hive_ , but deeper. The pressures of the earth around them increased, at least enough for her to notice. Gwyneth apparently felt nothing different, which sounded quite odd to her. At the least, it was much cooler, with the heat venting out of the fleshy walls in much more noticeable ways. Such was a very typical thing of surface mines, in the few times she’d gone down them.

But why had Avaron grown the hive this deep? And what room were they standing in front of now?

Staring into that lovely face revealed nothing. No, more than usual was a suspicious lack of _anything_.

Avaron hid behind an implacable façade, staring at her and Gwyneth without really seeing them.

It left her ill-at-ease in the heart. “Well?” she asked, breaking the silence. “We’re here now. What is it?”

The verbal shove jostled Avaron, enough she seemed to be more in the present. “Ah, right. Sorry, it’s just … figuring out how to say it.”

“Say what?” Gwyneth asked, perhaps sounding as ill-at-ease as Tsugumi felt.

“Let’s, uh, go inside and I’ll start somewhere, I guess.”

The sucking-slurp of the door opening followed Avaron’s words. Unlike all others, the _meat_ and _muscle_ of it was profoundly thicker; sturdier, even. It seemed less of a door than a fortress gate. Avaron stepped through and the two of them followed into a … bedroom? There was another one of those flesh beds, table and chair, the water cooler in the wall that Avaron liked so much … While arranged differently, it wasn’t that different from the bedroom they used further up.

_A bedroom?_ Tsugumi looked over to Avaron, who stared out against the far wall. She’d opened her mouth to say something, but something about her _air_ touched wrong. It was one matter for Avaron to stonewall herself, but another to—show that kind of face. A very troubled face that really didn’t fit her in the slightest.

The heroine turned around, regarding both of them seriously. “So, Gwyneth you don’t know her, but, Tsugumi—remember Cecile?”

It took a moment, given the months it’d been since then. “I do.”

“Right. No good way to say so here it is: I’m thinking about kidnapping her.”

Tsugumi sure just did hear those words right then. She and Gwyneth looked at each other. Despite the priestess’ facial mask, she felt they both understood each other quite well. They turned back to Avaron.

“No, not for any bad purpose. Or that. It’s just …”

“Why doth thou wisheth do so?” Gwyneth asked, a surprisingly clear and strong clarity to her voice.

“To save her,” Avaron said simply.

“From what?”

“Herself.”

“Why do you think she needs saving?” Tsugumi asked next. “She is content to wait there for her own reasons.”

Avaron scratched the back of her head, looking down at the ground. “That … it’s—” she looked up at the ceiling, her face contorted with vexation “—it’s not that simple.”

“Why doth thou believe so?”

“Ahh, fuck.” Avaron let out a long, deflating sigh. The agitation that’d just overtaken vanished, and a different look overcame her. One that harrowed Tsugumi, for it was the eyes of someone who bore tragedy. She’d seen it before, in the many destroyed villages—those who yet lived when others did not. A pang shot at her heart, but she held fast. “Guess I’ll just, explain it all. I grew up in the hood, you see.”

“The hood?” Gwyneth echoed confusedly.

“Sorry. Uh, the poorest of the poor neighborhoods, run by gangs and thugs. Everyone watched out for themselves, and you did what the ones in charge wanted.”

“I understand.”

_As do I,_ Tsugumi mused. She herself didn’t grow up there, but she had gone through such places more than once.

“Anyway, I had a friend. My best friend for when I was a kid. She and I did a lot together; kept each other safe, from the gangs and our own families. It wasn’t easy, but a lot of folk didn’t mind kids that much.” Avaron’s gaze slid away, staring long and far into the wall not really that far away. “One day I got my chance to get out of that Hell. A real, fucking stroke of luck and nothing else. I was probably about fifteen, then. I promised her I’d get her out too, it’d just take me a year.” A rueful smile came over her, a slow and creeping one that showed only bitterness. “Last time I ever saw her alive was on my ride out.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air until Tsugumi asked, “What happened?”

“Drugs.”

“What is that?”

Avaron scratched at her head irritably. “You know, crap you snort, burn in a pipe and smoke, gets you high and fucks up your head so you can feel good?”

“Ah, that … sort of thing.”

“Yeah. See, she’d been on drugs since we hit double-digits. She had all sorts of problems at home, always blew off her shakes and seizures as some excuse … but you live in the hood. You know what that shit is. I never brought it up because I never wanted to ruin our time together.” Avaron’s gaze fell down to the ground, something or nothing holding her attention. “Never pointed it out, always helped smoothed it over, pretended like we were fine. Six months after I leave her dad calls me tells me she OD’d. Uh, overdosed—took enough drugs it just up and killed her outright.”

The chuckle that followed wasn’t something she expected, and the fine hairs on her body stood on end at hearing it. She watched Avaron lift a hand, holding out a pinky.

“Just a tiny amount—tip of this finger. A bit too much and then pop goes her brain, done for good. All an accident, of course, a party gone too wild. Someone slipped her something a bit much. Whatever fucking excuse they thought was good enough, but it ain’t what she deserved.” Avaron shook her hand like someone trying to get something off of it. “Anyway, fact is I’m a coward. I coulda do more to help her; we could’ve ran away together, gone somewhere in another state, done fucking ANYTHING AT ALL!” Her sudden shout boomed in the tiny room, face contorted in utter anger as she clenched her hands together.

“But I didn’t, and she died because I was too damn scared. Ain’t nothing ever going to change that.”

Paralyzed on the spot, Tsugumi jumped when Gwyneth grabbed her hand. The priestess tugged, and the two of them went over to Avaron, who stood in her own little world. Gwyneth hugged first, taking up one side and Tsugumi clued in, taking the other. Despite their warming embrace, Avaron seemed far too up her own business still.

“Anyway,” the heroine said, “that’s why I want to save her. If I have to be the villain she hates her whole life, at least she will have a life to hate me with.”

“Even though she is not thy friend?” Gwyneth asked, probingly. “Thou cannot save all damsels in such ways.”

“No, you’re right and I know that. But, I … just this once. I could do it just this once.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Tsugumi asked, the heaviness of her question weighing upon the air.

“… I’ll cross that bridge if it comes.”

_Funny._ Tsugumi wanted to sigh and shake her head. _All the centuries apart and completely different people, but they act so very similar. It must be something all divine heroines have._ Setting a hand on Avaron’s head, she gave it a scalp-reaching rub. “I will agree, just this once. If you think to save more like this, you will have to find a better way.”

They both looked over at Gwyneth.

“Tis as Tsugumi says,” the priestess remarked slowly. “Thy noble intent doth not sooth thy actions. But, if thou believe it will work this time …”

“That’s why I need you two,” Avaron said, shrugging her shoulders. “If I’m the villain in this act, you two have to become her friends. It’s not like I’m doing this cause I want to fuck her or something.”

“Then what _do_ you want from her?” Tsugumi asked suspiciously.

“To grow a damn spine and find her own future. If it means helping her for a while and then she leaves, so be it.” Avaron grumbled under her breath but Gwyneth jabbed her in the side. “I said! I know I’m being selfish about the whole thing. Believe me, _I know_. But now that I can do something, I won’t live with not having done anything _again_.”

Tsugumi made a show of sighing dramatically, but nonetheless laid her head on Avaron’s shoulder. It was not if she didn’t understand—she did, both herself and having seen it in others. “It will not be that simple,” she remarked. “None of us know how Cecile will become.”

“Not until we try,” Avaron said.

_Such a bothersome problem,_ Tsugumi thought, but she would just have to expand her menu to include another person. _I really need an assistant. Four hands can only cook so fast …_

*~*

(Can you do anything, Medusa?)

(I am digging through the sensory feed as fast as I fucking can, thanks.)

(This really is …)

(We all knew what were getting into,) Prime said solemnly. Still, the woeful wailing and raging of a woman was that much harder to ignore. Although Cecile made no moves to try and escape, her loud anguish rattled Avaron’s entire mind. Being hyper aware of her entire hive as if it was herself had a distinct downside, it turned out. Prime, who stood outside staring at the sun with her eyes closed, tried so much more to focus on the warmth and cool breeze.

It was funny, in a messed up way. She’d ruined all sorts of lives maneuvering her businesses, but Cecile’s crying rattled her something fierce. _I wonder if this is how mother felt, some days,_ she mused, looking back on her adolescent rage with a much different eye. Tough love required a much sterner approach, after all. Still, what is done is done. Capturing Cecile hadn’t been that hard with the new crusher tentacles, not even the frightening power of a dorgi could stop them. Still, she ended up losing one completely, which surprised her.

The crusher was no pushover; no human could’ve done that sort of damage to it.

_This world, it really does keep surprising me._

“Avaron.”

Said woman still jumped in her skin at the sudden voice from behind her. “Yes, Kagura,” she bit out, “what is it?”

“The envoy from Honda-sama approaches.”

“Oh good, I needed something to distract me. Go get them then, I’ll ready things on this end.”

“Hoh.”

And as quick as Kagura appeared, she vanished again. Magic of some variety, but Avaron had no idea. It was befitting someone specialized in stealth moved with such little fanfare, after all. Brushing the matter aside, she ventured over to Arzha’s camp, where the princess and some of her knights awaited. As ever they rose up, coming to regard her properly, though not all their faces with quite as respectful. Not that she blamed them; nor, really, did she care.

“An emissary from Kitinchi approaches,” Avaron said to Arzha. “Please have you and yours ready to receive them as guards.”

“Do you expect trouble?” Arzha asked.

“Every day I wake up there’s something troubling me. I hope these people don’t cause anything.”

“… I understand. Haleen, Magna, assemble everyone and prepare as quick as you can.”

“At once!” the two chirped out, and they went about gathering up the disparate knights.

“I’ve already told Tsugumi and Gwyneth, who will hopefully have the inn ready in time.” Avaron turned around and made her way back across the area toward said inn. Arzha, it turned out, felt ready enough to already accompany her.

“Who is expected?” the princess asked.

“I have no idea. Honda told me he’d send someone named Hanamaru, and that was it. Couldn’t risk more details, I guess.”

“Mm. It is good the elvetahn have already left then, their guard would’ve made quite complicated.”

_And Nuala isn’t breathing down my neck anymore,_ Avaron wanted to say, but bit back those words. The mage was useful, but in the same way a cactus was. There just wasn’t a painless way to handle her without a lot of effort involved. She and Arzha made their way to the front of the inn, denoted for the big doors and patio-like slab of wood at the front. Some chairs and a lot of construction supplies awaited them, the latter neatly squared away, the former just hanging out. Avaron plopped down in one of the chairs, letting out a sigh.

“To be honest I’m a bit concerned about my clothing,” Avaron remarked, picking at the simple green-tinged white dress. It felt great and looked nice, but it really _speak_ money or power. Very practical, according to the one elvetahn she asked. “Kind of hard looking like I matter when I’m in a sleeping gown.”

“… The clothes do not necessarily make the person,” Arzha said after a moment. “While it certainly helps to impress the peasant folk and obstinate nobles.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“One cannot stand on decorum in the middle of a battlefield. Only those safe at home in the courts care deeply about appearances that much.”

“How surprisingly pragmatic of you,” Avaron said appraisingly, making the princess look over at her straightforwardly.

“Have I impressed otherwise?”

“I do not know what to make of royalty in this world, is all. They were quite slovenly in mine.”

“You should meet my brother, then.”

“Ah, I see.”

Arzha’s knights wasted little time in arriving, decked out in their full armor as they were. Avaron couldn’t help raising a brow at the sight before giving Arzha a long look. “Wouldn’t a bunch of people in combat gear be intimidating?”

“It is proper when receiving those sent by a foreign lord,” Arzha said simply.

“My lady,” one of the knights said—Haleen, if Avaron remembered. “They’re here.”

And so Arzha looked at Avaron.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Avaron grumbled, rising out of her chair. “Let’s see what Honda sent me.”

Something very big, it turned out.

Arzha and her knights behind her, Avaron walked away from the inn, standing in a cleared area. From the tree line emerged five figures; Kagura seeming absolutely small beside them. Their hulking masses, spine-covered bodies, and intimidating horns marked them clearly as harraxin. Avaron pursed her lips at the sight. _Let’s not let past prejudices stir up, now!_ she told herself, even if they were being a little stirred up.

The smaller ones were closer to how Nerg had been, in terms of size and spine thickness. Their leader apparent, however—if she’d been Nerg’s mom or something, Avaron would’ve believed it without hesitation. Nearly a quarter in size larger, her spines thick enough to punch a hole in a tank, and proud horns that must’ve never been broken. The samurai armor adorning her looked more like a suggestion than anything she actually needed! Avaron’s head craned upward as the group approached, finding herself dwarfed by the huge harraxin.

“So I take it your Hanamaru?” Avaron asked.

“Hm. You’re the heroine?” the harraxin who was probably Hanamaru asked back. Her deep voice almost made pebbles on the ground shake it carried so much energy.

“That I am.”

“You are weak,” Hanamaru belted out immediately, sounding like an inspector with the utmost disapproval.

Avaron’s eye tweaked slightly. “Well, I’m sure you think anything that can’t bench 4,000 pounds is weak. That isn’t my job in the first place.” Hanamaru’s face twisted, seeming as if she wanted to be offended but wasn’t too sure on why. “Lord Honda told me you’d be his emissary.”

Hanamaru snorted. “Mayumi, the backpack.”

One of the harraxin stepped forward, unslinging a pack off their shoulder. Like Hanamaru they wore samurai-like armor, far more complimentary to their (relatively) smaller stature. Mayumi chucked the backpack before Avaron’s feet, a thing large enough she could fit in if she tucked herself.

“The package that man wanted to give you,” Hanamaru declared and rolled her shoulders, the spines upon them rattling at the motion. “Hmph, she’s weak, but you look fun.”

Avaron followed her gaze toward Arzha, the princess a veritable wall of ice in her picturesque stance. “I shall take it as a compliment,” the princess said evenly.

If nothing else to move things along, Avaron picked up the backpack. Heavy, certainly, but not as much as she feared. Unwinding the cords tying it shut, she peeked inside, beholding a particularly large scroll and some smaller, normal books. In taking an awkward look inside one, she saw a whole bunch of written characters that made zero sense to her. Letting out a deflating sigh, she shut the backpack again. “Kagura.”

The ninja stepped around Hanamaru, bowing. “Yes, Avaron-sama?”

“I think I will need your help in reading whatever this says. I don’t recognize the language at all.”

“Of course.”

“Weak _and_ stupid,” Hanamaru’s cutting remark butted in, sounding even more disappointed.

“Don’t talk down about yourself like that,” Avaron shot back faster than her brain could think. Pausing just as the realization struck, she found Hanamaru a bit taken aback. One of the harraxin next to her started a snorting laugh, quite obviously trying to keep it down. The other two, however, looked horrified. Or as horrified as they could look with those damn scary faces of theirs. “Anyway,” she said, sidestepping the atmosphere completely. “I imagine you all came a long way. We just started cooking lunch and all that, so you’re welcome to come inside.”

Before Hanamaru could spit anything else, Kagura said, “It would be _our honor_ to do so, Avaron-sama.”

Even if the huge harraxin bit her words back, her glare at Avaron spoke all of its own. The battle would be for later, undoubtedly.

“You’re all due for lunch too, I imagine,” Avaron said, looking at Arzha’s knights. One of them nodded, even as the others remained politely firm. “Well, let’s give Tsugumi some help, or she might kill me for this big of a food order.”

*~*

In the end, some of the knights went to help Tsugumi, in either the kitchen or hunting fresh meat. The rest loitered around the inn’s interior, ever at ease as they offered their silent guardianship. Avaron, sitting with Kagura at one of the main floor-tables, was quietly listening to the ninja translate Honda’s letter to her. He ultimately sent much more than a diplomatic agreement: information on the surrounding lands, the nature of their political situations, major figures and names to remember, and so on. She had the impression it was fairly common knowledge for anyone in nobility, but utterly precious for her to acquire.

(I am impressed he sent us this,) Cypher remarked.

(Why, though?) Iris asked. (I mean, aren’t kids typically the ones who end up summoned?)

(Maybe we acted with inspiring confidence?) Cypher offered. (Or Kagura impressed it upon him.)

Avaron, beholding the spread open books and unfurled scroll before her, shook her head. “I’m impressed Lord Honda thought to send all of this to me. It’s exceptionally useful, but …”

“… But?” Kagura prompted.

“I am curious how he thought I’d make use of it. I imagine he awaits to be impressed by what I’ve learned.”

“I dare not claim to know Honda-sama’s mind.”

Dutiful to the point of obnoxiousness. Still, Avaron couldn’t blame her. “Mm, so it is. Tell me about this Hanamaru woman now that she’s here and trying to cut me apart with her eyes.”

Indeed, the harraxin warriors had taken up a corner, waiting peacefully there with their drinks and snacks. Hanamaru, whether pretending to sleep or otherwise against the wall, had long kept her gaze upon Avaron.

“That is …” Kagura blanched for a moment before recovering just as quickly. “She is a powerful warrior whom Honda-sama defeated in battle long ago. As honor dictated, she now serves him, but has ever been … well.”

“A sore loser?”

“In not so staining of words, but yes.”

“I don’t see why she doesn’t defect, then.”

“Honor is everything to her. It is, if nothing, her most respectable quality,” Kagura said, the word ‘respectable’ sounding quite out of place. “Until she defeats Honda-sama, she will not leave.”

_Wow people like this actually do exist,_ Avaron couldn’t help thinking, her mental brows shooting up. _Then again I grew up in the west, so, you know, different worlds and all that …_

(I like how you talk to yourself when we’re right here,) Aegis remarked dryly.

(Shut up!) Weaver chirped back.

(Keep working the documents already,) Iris grumbled.

So she did. The knights in the kitchen—thankfully out of their armor—were busy sending food everywhere as it got done. To their credit they were not skittish around the harraxin, but they definitely _perked up_ whenever going by them. Racism was a multi-headed beast, and it was one Avaron dealt with every day of her life. The context here might’ve been completely different, but not that much.

Just one more thing to figure out.

(Hey, Corena,) Weaver asked.

(Hm?)

(When we’re done tonight, give Tsugumi a hearty massage.)

(Why? Oh, right. I see.)

(Yeah.)

(Sure.)

(Thanks.)

At least one of her might not die tonight if they worked hard on that front.

In the time that passed, a realization came over Avaron. “This is going to be more than a one-sitting job, Kagura … san? Kagura-san, right?”

“… If you wish, Avaron-sama.”

“It’s not like I’m nobility or anything,” Avaron remarked dryly, setting down a book. Something of a map had been drawn across two pages, referenced by notes she couldn’t read at all. “If it’s not that troublesome, we’ll have to spend a few days going over it.”

“If that is what you need, Avaron-sama,” Kagura said, bowing her head.

“Speaking of that, isn’t it troublesome wearing your attire like that constantly?” Avaron asked. “Don’t ninja have normal clothes in this world?”

“Magical eyes may be prying without warning. It is for my own safety that I remain concealed.”

“… Wait, what’s that about magical eyes?” The weight of nine other consciousnesses pressed in, all of them peering through Avaron’s two eyes.

“It is a form of magic used to spy upon one’s enemies, or otherwise,” Kagura said, rather matter-of-factly about it. “The elvetahn are notorious for doing so to secure their borders. Theirs is quite advanced, and nearly impossible to detect from within their own lands.”

“Oh really?”

(Son of a bitch,) Aegis swore immediately.

(How do we even know what they’ve seen? If anything?) Medusa asked with a hot, angry energy.

Avaron did a double-take, shutting out those voices for a moment. “How does one go about … protecting themselves, from that sort of spying?”

“I know not the details, such is the purview of mages and priestesses.” Kagura bowed her head. “What charms I possess were given to me for such a purpose.”

“… I might ask Lord Honda for some help in this respect,” Avaron said, all-to-conversational.

“He may oblige, for I know he does detest such a problem.”

_Anyone who leads would,_ Avaron thought and with a definitive slap against the table, rose up. “Right then. I’ll leave these to you for the time being. I need to speak with miss tall dark and spiney over there.”

“As you say, Avaron-sama,” Kagura returned dutifully.

In walking across Tsugumi’s inn toward the harraxin, Avaron couldn’t help recalling a similar scene not so long ago. The end of that whole shebang saw her burned to death, and that was quite a hard memory to forget. Well, near death, at any rate. Stopping by their table, everyone but Hanamaru looked over at her, their dragon-like gazes staring with inscrutable hostility. Their whole species might very well have a case of angry asshole face—not that Avaron would say that aloud.

“Yo,” she said simply, holding up a hand quickly in greeting. “It looks like it will take a few days to work through Lord Honda’s package. Was there anything else he wanted you to do?”

“No,” Hanamura rumbled out an answer. “Give it to you, take it back when you’re done.”

“Alright. As you saw outside we don’t have a lot of rooms actually built, but I’ll help you get something comfortable until you leave.”

“Anno, um,” one of the harraxin spoke up, the only one of the four not dressed like a samurai. Avaron hadn’t given her much thought at first, but the longer she stared, the more confused she became. _A Shinto priestess? No, a monk?_ she thought, brow curling speculatively. Some kind of fusion of the two, made for the very obvious concessions of the harraxin body-type. She shrank back slightly at Avaron’s look, making her blink.

“Sorry, your attire just looks familiar to me,” Avaron said, waving off the awkward air trying to form. “What is the matter?”

“The first snows are due to arrive soon. It will be much harder returning to Honda-sama—”

“—We can make the journey,” Hanamaru cut in with a definitive tone.

The meekier-seeming harraxin, however, didn’t relent. “I mean no disrespect, but it is a winter through the Alva Forest, Hanamaru-sama,” she said, spines perking up. “And we already fought a nagraki coming here.”

“You—” Hanamaru, who was in the process of sitting up like an angry parent, got cut off.

“You fought a nagraki?” Avaron asked immediately, her voice cut to the business tone immediately.

“Hm? Yes, a nagraki with kagr who were trying to attack a border village.”

Avaron rubbed her face. “Fuck me, and the elvetahn already left. You’d think they would’ve left a way to message them.”

“You sound familiar with this problem,” Hanamaru observed aloud.

“Yeah. The elvetahn killed a highborn a few weeks back.”

A thunderous bang shot through the entire inn as Hanamaru’s massive hands came down upon the table. Such was their force the wood cracked and splintered, nearly shattering outright. “A _WHAT?!_ ” Hanamaru roared, setting everyone on edge. Some of the knights even moved to stand, reflexively at attention and ready to draw weapons. For Avaron, she bore the burden of two great fiery eyes piercing through her, burning alight with an energy that sent her primitive animal brain on high alert.

“A nagraki highborn,” Avaron repeated again, mindfully overlooking the nearly ruined table. “It was leading the armies of the Empire attacking the elvetahn. They killed it in a major battle.”

“You cannot simply _kill_ a nagraki! Let alone a highborn of all!” Hanamaru spoke, her angry-sounding words rattling the walls. “It is still out there!”

“No, it’s not,” Avaron said, her own voice rising to match Hanamaru. “I don’t how they did it, but their queen herself assured me the highborn is dead. I trust you do not doubt the words of Efval Gladestride?”

Hanamaru paused, her great brows knitting together a thought quite visibly. “No. No, I do not,” she said, the rising energy simmering off as she sat back down properly again. “But a highborn of all things; it is much worse than I thought.”

“Why do you say so?” Two dismissive eyes regarded her, irritable at some indiscernible fact.

“It is just as it was during the Ash War. The nagraki we slew carried a newly forged Doomblade. Now, a highborn walked the world! This audacity is not that of a dead or dying enemy. The nagraki are returning.”

“You speak as if you’re quite familiar with them.”

“More than anyone would want to be.”

“Then as repayment for the table you just destroyed, I shall ask you to tell me all you know about them,” Avaron said, smiling good-naturedly. “Or I shall press Lord Honda to pay your debt instead.”

Hanamaru looked down, just now realizing what happened to the table. The harraxin growled, her spines rattling while she ran her huge fingers through her rough hair. “Tch. Fine.”

*~*

Gwyneth felt herself up and down, taking note of her priestess robes. They were as they ever had been, and she’d set them on as normally as any other day. “Mine attire is not unseemingly?” she asked, looking over at the tentacleling beside her. With two of its legs carefully balancing the porcelain tray on top of itself, its tentacle-head cocked curiously.

“Bork?” it answered back in that strange, but quite funny way of speaking. None of the tentacles she’d talked to really ever spoke back, but they always seemed to understand her questions.

“I suppose mine attire is not so different,” she muttered, running a hand over her pregnant belly. Oh, how it swelled up so fast over the weeks! It left her feeling tight in her own clothes, and she understood why so many expectant mothers complained about their attires. Surely it wasn’t that bad, she thought once. No, it was that bad.

Avaron’s rule of “always be naked underground” certainly had helped. Going outside proved that much harder, but Gwyneth chose not to fret. She’d get herself more appropriate clothing for when Avaron made her into a mother! Holding her own belly, she unconsciously licked her lips, the terrible phantom of that _wonderful cum_ teasing her tongue. Nearly two days since the last time Avaron came to her for relief! Oh, she couldn’t stand—

Her mind betrayed her, flashing that _awful_ and _embarrassing_ skill.

[Cum Slut].

The world itself conspired to brand her with such an—such an outrageous lie! Gwyneth’s cheeks puffed up angrily at the mere thought! _I am no slut!_ she thought hotly before taking the food tray from the tentacleling. “Thank thee for thy work,” she said, giving a little curtsy to the tentacleling. It mimicked her in kind, obediently waiting. Turning around, Gwyneth regarded the very large, living flesh of a door that marked rooms within the Hive.

“Open please!” she asked cutely.

It took a moment before the flesh started quite audibly contracting, slurping, and sucking as it moved. It pulled open like a ringed mouth, the teeth that secured it shut hanging at the sides. Her skin prickled at the sound. No matter how much she knew what it was for—even Avaron’s deadpan explanation couldn’t make it sound less disgusting. Still, Gwyneth pressed on, stepping into the room.

Well, prison cell.

“Hello!” she greeted. “I brought thy dinner!”

A figure at the far end shifted, two gold eyes peering at her through the dim darkness. “W-who are you?” she asked unsteadily, her voice hoarse and terrible to hear.

“Gwyneth! Priestess of the Eternal Flame,” she declared, doing a curtsy.

“P-priestess?” the woman asked unsteadily. “But why are you here?”

Gwyneth looked down. “To give thy food?”

“I meant, here—in this awful place!?”

“Awful?” Gwyneth chirped, jolting at the idea. “Tis quite lovely! Unusual, certainly, and with a lot of … flesh.”

The rustling of clothes against skin followed, and the dorgi prisoner rolled over onto the bed. She was quite a big woman, but her miserable aura made her seem all that much smaller instead. “So you’re a prisoner too?”

“No?” Gwyneth chirped back. “The Flame bid mine help for Avaron, is all.”

The dorgi’s face darkened with a scowl. “Go away.”

“Thou must eat!” Gwyneth insisted, holding up the tray with all of Tsugumi’s hard work on it.

“Go—” the dorgi shot up, standing at her full height, “—AWAY!”

Perking up at the rather dangerous vibe she sensed, Gwyneth shook her head. Rather than say anything, she walked over to the cell’s only table, setting the tray down. “Thou must eat!” she declared. “Tis good food, and will help thee.”

The meaty thump of naked feet followed, the dorgi coming at her with glowering eyes. Yet in stepping into the brighter light of the room, she came to a pause, staring at Gwyneth with confusion. “You’re … blind?”

“Oh!” Gwyneth touched her visor and smiled ruefully. “Verily. Tis quite troublesome moving around.”

“I …”

They stood there, not in arms reach but awkwardly close considering the air. A few moments later, an audible growling of a belly started up, and the dorgi shrank away. Gwyneth waved her hands insistently toward the meal tray. “Come! Tsugumi cooks well! Tis delicious.”

“You know her too?”

“Verily! She is quite nice. A bit—stand offish, but nice.”

Gwyneth stood there for what felt a while, but the dorgi gradually came out from her end of the cell. In taking the seat at the table, it turned out to be too small for her to really use properly. Humming in disapproval, she made a note to tell Avaron later. “I did not know thee knew of her! How did thou meet?”

It took much longer before the dorgi decided to answer. “She was in trouble, near my—my home, and I helped her.”

“How kind.”

“But I spit on myself for doing so!” the dorgi bit out immediately, fists clenching in the air. “That—that woman kidnapped me! She brought monsters and wrapped me up and brought me here and—” The dorgi devolved into a spitting, angry and crying ramble recounting her tale of meeting Avaron again. Gwyneth, having already heard it from Avaron, nodded along as she had to. A priestess must always let grievances be aired before speaking her words. By the end, the dorgi’s face had puffed up again, blistering with red-hot energy.

“Tis most strange,” Gwyneth said, rubbing her chin. “Avaron told me she did it to help thee. But, thou had not needed it?”

“No!” the dorgi said, somewhere between a tearful screech and sob. “It’s my home! I’m waiting for my family to come back!”

“Oh, they left? Why?” Gwyneth asked, tilting her head.

“That—they had to go, it was important they did.”

“But why did thou remain then?”

“I—I had to. It was my responsibility.”

Gwyneth scratched at her head. “Mine mind struggles. They left thee to thy responsibility and departed. Then, why doth thou believe they will return?”

“B-because they will!” the dorgi insisted, yet her voice lacked all the fire she had earlier despite its loudness.

“Oh, forgive me! I had not heard thy name!”

The dorgi did a doubletake before bashfully lowering her head. “Cecile, I’m … Cecile.”

“Tis good to meet thee, Cecicle—Ceceel—Ci …” Gwyneth held her hands up to her cheeks and turned away. “Oh, forgive me.”

“It’s—It’s alright!” Cecile insisted, waving her hands dismissively. “Southlanders have trouble with northern names!”

“Tis most rude of me!” Gwyneth insisted, bowing repeatedly.

“Please, stop!” Cecile begged. “A priestess should not bow to me!”

They went back and forth on the matter a couple times, until Gwyneth finally broke with a grumbling acceptance. “If thou insist.”

“I do!” Cecile said, a genuine taste of good energy in her voice finally.

“As thee asks. But, if thou insist thy family will return, when doth thee expect them?” Gwyneth asked. “Mayhaps Avaron misunderstand completely. She doth not know dorgi as I do.”

“That, well, it is as you say …” Cecile said, her voice turning into mumbles in its poor attempts at evasion. “I believe it will be soon.”

“Verily? When did they leave?”

“D-does it matter?”

“Tis helpful to convince Avaron?” Gwyneth offered, seeming thoughtful. “Her mind vexes me so.”

“Uhmm, they left, well, umm …” Cecile squirmed indecisively, her big body threatening to destroy the porcelain chair she sat on. That it endured so well beneath her plush butt was quite the feat. “I don’t … remember, exactly. It was after the ash rained from the sky for a whole winter. It covered the whole mountain we live on! And they got really fussy about it, then I—” she cut herself off sharply, eyes going downcast. “Well, you surely remember it, right? The skies covered in black clouds for many weeks?”

“Mine blood be human,” Gwyneth said sheepishly. “Tis not likely. Thy words sound of the _Black Months_ , the ending of the Ash War.”

“O-oh? Do, erm, do humans not live long?” Cecile asked uneasily.

“Verily. Between sixty and eighty summers, if one is most fortunate.”

“But that is … that’s rather unfair!”

“Tis life?” Gwyneth said lamely, shrugging her shoulders. “But thou say thy family left shortly after the Black Months?”

“It sounds right?” Cecile offered lamely.

“Tis most difficult to believe! The Ash War ended hundreds of years ago. Thou hath been waiting this entire time?”

At that, the anxious Cecile froze, her aura that of one being struck by an uncomfortable truth. Gwyneth had seen such many times in those she went to, or came to her for, help. Such moments meant she had to push or wait; and waiting felt to be appropriate here. An old truth had been dug up, and it would not be answered quickly. “Ah, please be at ease,” Gwyneth said, holding up her hands appeasingly. “Let it not trouble thy mind. Enjoy thy dinner, I shall speak with Avaron and learn more of her intent.”

“R-really? Thank you. Mother always said priestesses were nice and …” Cecile’s heartfelt words turned back into nonsensible mumbling.

A pang of genuine guilt struck Gwyneth’s heart, but she kept it inside as she ever did. “Rest easy. I see thee for thy next meal.”

Bowing out of the prison cell, Gwyneth left Cecile, and started up the spiraling staircase that led back into the main Hive areas. As she did so, her mind busied itself with a heavy realization. True to Avaron’s instruction, by playing up certain acts and sidestepping others, she managed to pull Cecile from out of her corner. Never had Gwyneth had such an easy time speaking with someone to bring them forth. While half of what Avaron told her to expect didn’t appear, what did appear did so almost perfectly on cue.

_She knows the mind well,_ Gwyneth thought. _Perhaps better than me._

It remained to be seen how much of this “good girl/bad girl” act, as Avaron put, would reap in the end.

But one thing remained absolutely clear to her.

Avaron was not a simple person, even for a divine heroine.

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.7) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.22) – Refugee Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.16) – Brood Mother (lv.2)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) -- Desperate Magi


	30. In the Dark of Winter

_Is life cyclical because it is, or we believe it is?_

*~*

The soft thump of shoes broke with the occasional _crunch_ of dead foliage. Efval made no effort to move through the tree tops, nor quiet her approach. Looking up, her gaze aimlessly wandered, taking in the thick branches, twisting trees, and their unsightly trunks. Snow sat heavy upon them all, yet the canopy till thick enough it was snow, instead of leaves, blocking the sun. Where it failed, piercing beams of sunshine broke through, blisteringly bright. Such befitted the Heartwood, intense in its secrets and tempting of those foolish enough to enter.

_To think that huntress was allowed to leave,_ Efval mused. _Mother must be losing her touch._

That astounded her more than anything else. For once, the ancient law of the death penalty for trespassing in the Heartwood had been invoked. At least the war with the Empire gave her plausible excuse to waive it this time. There were simply not enough of them left to afford such a punishment. What bothered her more, however, was the fact the huntress’ weapon had been taken.

Such a tiny thought compared to all the rest she dealt with.

It bothered her far more than any of them combined.

Her trek deeper into the Heartwood continued, a path quite literally forming before her. Trees bent away, roots lifted or flattened, and all of the forest conspired to see her safe passage. _Mother wants to see me as well,_ Efval thought, a chilly shiver going down her spine. _Ah, dearest mother, what churns within your mind?_

Only when the sun disappeared fully, and darkness surrounded her, did she know she neared. Small plants and vines grew along the towering trees and their trunks, shining eerily. Blue hues and red glows, green shimmers and yellow glitters; such marked the difference between the outer trunk and the true center of the Heartwood. The cold blew in, columns of freezing air winding through the woods like death’s own fingers. Her skin prickled, the warmth of the woods teasingly fleeting against it.

She found no relief in reaching the end, a simple round disc of stone set in a bed of flowers. The carnivorous things were already asleep, shut into bulbs in the ground. Withered vines wormed through the cracks, grasping rock like a hand ready to throw. Her shoes clicking shoes echoed in the still air, not even chittering bugs or rustling leaves to be heard. “I am ever surprised you are still awake, dear mother,” Efval said, her words spoken out but no echo followed. The very woods around them ate the sounds right up.

A crinkling twist of wood, the snapping of branches and twigs, rattled the air. The different jagged trunks around the disc moved as snakes might, slithering against one another in a mockerous imitation of laughing. “Dearest daughter of mine,” came the guttural, deep sounding words. “I am always awake.”

“So you say,” Efval remarked dryly. “I have come to speak.”

“And speak you always do, soon to leave as a leaf on a breeze,” her mother grumbled, the flower bulbs flexing like shrugging shoulders. “It is so much like your father to do.”

To say her mother was a bit _thorny_ would’ve been a kind gesture.

“Forgive me, then,” Efval said, her long ears barely twitching. “But it is a direly important matter.”

“Important enough to visit meee?”

“I am sure you already know.”

“There is much I know and care not to otherwise, dearest daughter. What troubles you is hardly a trouble for me.”

“Then I am most interested in how you might worry over the return of the nagraki.”

The woods went still for a moment, not out of surprise but of the fun being taken away. “I worry not,” her mother twittered, “they are no different from before. Be they lowly or highly, they are all mine to eat.”

A shifting noise overhead made Efval look up. Branches reaching down as a hand would twitched and cracked, growing as much as moving toward her. Sword-like fingers unfurled, and a most familiar sight awaited in its palm. The missing bolt-action rifle from the huntress.

“But I am most curious as to what this is. It is no bow nor sword, neither spear or javelin, or anything of the woods. Why does a huntress carry it?”

“It is a gun.”

“A _gun_?” her mother asked, the woods around Efval rattling. “What does it do?”

_So even you do not know,_ Efval thought, unable to help the smirk that came at the thought.

“It is an ugly look to see upon your face, dearest daughter.”

Efval’s smirk left as quick as it came. “It is a strong weapon, mightier than any bow. A child of two weeks training can kill a warrior of four hundred winters in an instant.”

“ _Ridiculous!_ ” her mother hissed, all the woods pressing in closer to Efval’s little platform. In spite of the terrifying pressure, Efval remained standing, undaunted and unafraid.

“It is how Baval died.”

“… What?” her mother asked, her whole demeanor changing in an instant. “Baval—”

“Killed in an instant, right through the heart,” Efval said, the words feeling far too easy to say. She pointed at the rifle held in her mother’s tree hand. “By guns made in the Empire.”

No words came, and the air held a stillness more solemn than death itself. Her mother’s hand curled inward, trembling; rattling with its intensity. The gun twisted in her grasp, the delicate craft work bending into funny, broken shapes. The trees cracked and groaned, ripping their roots from the ground and slamming into each other. A sound of anguish and raw rage followed, a hoarse scream from the mouth of an animal pretending to be a person. Efval had no choice but to cover her ears, but even still, it reached into her very bones.

Two more hands reached down from the canopy, followed by a third arm that held a face. Like mother as daughter, but hers was a face of bark and wood, eyes of tourmaline gems and starlight, hair like ten thousand daggers. Efval jerked as her mother grabbed her shoulders, their faces brought nose-to-nose. “You let her die?!” her mother hissed through splintering teeth.

“Do not spit in my face as if I am stupid,” Efval bit back, baring her own teeth. The front facing ones, for how smooth and quaint they were, hid the dagger-like ones in the back. “A thousand battles together and not once did I falter. You think me a fool but you are the foolish one! That—” Efval thrust a hand toward what was left of the rifle, “—is the new age of fire that comes.”

“There is _NO FIRE!_ ” her mother snarled as two more hands erupting from the ground. They grasped Efval by the neck, tight enough to make her feel her own heartbeat. “It faded for the last time amongst the ashes!”

“There is a new Chosen,” Efval squeaked out, speaking that much harder. The tightening grip froze, her mother’s eyes staring with an intensity that bordered on madness. “I have met her myself.”

“You have been most busy, my ill-respecting daughter.” Her mother’s teeth ground against each other, a grating sound of wood upon stone.

“Heh. And thirteen divine heroines are in this world now.”

In an instant Efval was thrown to the ground, her mother recoiling with a disgusted groan. “This! This what I get for birthing such ill-grown children!” she yelled and lamented all at once. “Tahn! You impotent shrub I will strip your bark and make you into a bird feeder!”

Whether or not her father might hear that, Efval didn’t know. Coughing and clearing her throat, she rolled onto her butt and sat, hunched over. “A new age of fire is coming, mother,” she spat out, her good humour truly fucking gone at that point. “But it is one that the Flame fears.”

“How can the Flame fear its own creation?!” her mother screamed, thrusting her face back into Efval’s. “It exists solely for it!”

“How would I know?” Efval snapped back. “But it is so. The Chosen of the Flame endeavors to stop the coming age of fire. For, as the Flame fears, it will be the last one upon this world; the end of change itself.”

Her mother drew back, clawing at her own face with a frustrated, hissing snarl. Bark split off and darkly green, sap-like blood spilled out. As it did, tiny plants grew immediately, bushes, shrubs, and flowers of all kinds sprouting up. It had been the only green plants Efval had seen since the snows fell. “Aaaaand, what of these, divine heroines?”

“One lives on the southern border of our forest. The other twelve were in the human kingdom of Artor. It fell to war, and I do not know what has become of them. The Church of the Everlasting Light might have snatched them up.”

“Thirteen! Thirteen of those vile creatures!” her mother hissed, staring up at the canopy-roof. “One is bad enough. Now I see why the Flame fears the new age.” In an instant her head snapped toward Efval. “You said one _lives_ on _my_ southern border?”

“Yes,” Efval said slowly. “One that is, erm, rather complicated.”

“Complicated.”

“Father has betrothed me to them.”

“Did he really now?”

There were few times in Efval’s life she felt fear intense enough it might be called terror. Yet her mother’s smooth, elegant voice and unerringly even tone made even her want to run out of the Heartwood. “Y-yes, he did,” she affirmed, sweat dripping down her face.

“My, my, my. And what about this heroine caught his eye?”

“I have not the faintest idea. She is different from the rest, I know that much.”

“Different … how?”

“She is a tentradom.”

Her mother’s head twisted from one side to the other, trying to work that thought down like food stuck in the throat. “A _tentradom?_ A _divine tentradom_?”

“Quite so.”

“My, how long has it been?” her mother mused aloud, scratching her chin. Slowly her gaze turned downward, a look of utter disbelief showing. “Mm, your father betrothed you to such an exquisite creature and you’re _still not pregnant?_ ”

“Of course not!” Efval screeched back, rising up to a stand quickly. “I have no interest in such a thing!” As soon as the words left her mouth, one of mother’s large hands swooped down, grabbing Efval by her entire torso.

“Did I birth you?” her mother asked, squinting suspiciously. Efval tried to speak, only to ended up turned sideways, upside down, her legs and arms moved by another tree hand. “Is it broken?” she asked, spying down the length of Efval’s legs and into her crotch.

“I AM QUITE FINE, MOTHER,” Efval shouted, trying to cover herself up. “There is not a man that catches my eye!” Ending right-side up again, her mother’s dry looking face bored into her.

“Dearest daughter of mine, you are the youngest and have stayed so long in my home. Isn’t it time to make a forest of your own?” she asked drearily. “These rules and conventions of yours, how tiresome indeed. Do you not remember the beauty of frolicking naked and free? Oh, I am getting old, rhyming again like this.”

“That was then, mother. Times change.”

“All things change but not all change is good. Daughter of my fruits, I grow tired of sheltering your senseless thinking. In thousands of winters not a man has caught your eye?” she asked, a third hand waving beside her head in a grand, disbelieving dismissal. “Such a ridiculous idea. Why not be like your other sisters, and find someone pretty and fuck them? It is the seed you need, not their silly … whatever else there is.” She then leaned in like a conspirator. “Unless it is women you seek, but I care not about that.”

“I have responsibilities to more than just _having children_ ,” Efval hissed and squirmed, but her mother’s hold remained unyielding. “Without me, the elvetahn you do not care about would have died!”

“Just so, it is the way of the weak to feed the strong,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “Wasting your time trying to keep them, really. Did you learn nothing from me?”

“I learned enough to know that is not my way.”

A loud, disappointed sigh sounded, her mother’s hand sagging enough to drop Efval back onto the platform. “Daughters! So be it, silly as it is. But you must find seed soon and bear your own forest. This is truly ridiculous to stay here for so long. Why, the bees will laugh their stingers off when they hear this!”

“I’ll try, Mother.”

“And you’ve said that so much the frogs croak it!”

“Putting that aside,” Efval said, desperately trying to move the conversation. “What will you do? The nagraki are coming.”

“Slowly, it seems,” her mother remarked, and with little ceremony, all her limbs and face receded into the woods again. “It has been so long since I have had a good hunt. Mmm, oh, I just cannot fit into this tight body anymore—”

Something like a bulb wrenched and squirmed through the canopy, drooping like an apple about to fall. Its fleshy petals peeled open slowly, a gurgling suck of fluids and muscles sounding. A body dropped out, landing on its feet and knees despite the rest of it slumping forward. Efval watched, a captive audience to the bizarre spectacle before her. The woman-creature before her rose up, each step like a faun finding its own legs. For what passed as skin were leaves and bark, smooth and supple with a feminine power beneath them. Cloven hoofed feet clopped with each step, and two muscular arms reached up. With a great heaving through, a wild mane of stickily drenched hair—vines, plant leaves, flowers and the like—slapped onto her back.

“Mother,” Efval greeted when the creature turned toward her, each eye blinking independently from the other. “To what is this occasion owed?”

Despite the inordinate stretching and flexing she did, no bones popped—rather it sounded as sinew and tendons were being _stretched_. “I wish to see this tentradom with my own two eyes,” she said, gathering a slop of juice and flicking it off as filth. “Mm, oh, the cold of winter. It has been so long!”

“But, why?” Efval puzzled. The clop of hooves punctuated her mother’s approach, and a hand laid upon her shoulder. In spite of the clothing there, she still felt the sweat-inducing heat.

“Dearest daughter, a treasure unlike any other is sleeping on your branch. If you do not want it, I shall take it.”

“I must ask your due consideration,” Efval said hurriedly. “She is proving valuable to saving my people!”

Her mother tsk’d and tutted, looking utterly disappointed. “Oh, you can keep those trinkets. It is not as if you wish to marry her, no?”

“Not at all.”

“Then tell that firewood that I’ve annulled this marriage. The one he made without my permission.” Her mother smiled, showing a neat row of teeth lined with bladed edges made of iron. “I shall pluck this little flower for my own keeping.”

“Y-you …” Efval stammered, brushed aside as her mother walked toward the exit. The very definition of a woman in her prime, hips swaying and breasts jiggling—oh, no. “Mother? What are you going to do?” she asked, even though she knew already.

A rich, sonorous laughter followed, all-too-much like a person in its loving pitch and haughtiness. Her mother disappeared behind a tree, and even though Efval raced over, she knew. The woman was already gone, her laugh echoing in the still woods, that much colder and lifeless in her absence. Efval found herself struck stupid by the idea, the mere notion of her mother going out on a hunt once again. Worse, something had caught her fancy—something enough to leave the Heartwood and take for her own.

Freed of her father’s stupidly arranged marriage, but now with such a worse problem on her hands.

Ah, the anxiety.

She felt like puking it was so terrible.

*~*

Discordant screaming, thumping, and meat rolling around filled the underground laboratory. At least, up until the flesh door, which proved quite good for sound insulation. A5-Iris, a hand cupped under her chin, looked down at the other Avaron from her chair, studying with a scrutinizing gaze. The other, being A6-Cypher, was a bit too busy writhing impotently in pain. Panting, wheezing and drooling, Cypher laid on the ground, her face blisteringly dark blue, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her whole mouth about a one extra size too large.

All for about a minute, then the regenerative powers overrode the problem. Honestly it very much looked like one of those creepy 3D projects tweaking settings in real time. Cypher returned to normal without much of a fuss, even if she seemed rather irritable still.

(Too intense?) Iris asked.

(Way too intense,) Cypher wheezed out before thumping her chest with a hand. She ended up spitting out a wad of phlegm and rising up to her shaky feet. (That’ll probably kill a normal person.)

(So do we keep it for lethal application or …?)

(Let’s file it away under lethal potential. Do you think we can dilute it further?)

(Maybe. Do we want to keep trying the gas form or go back to liquid spraying?)

Cypher busied herself for a moment splashing her face in a water basin. (Ugh, I don’t know. I think liquid will be more immediately useful, especially if we start arming the tentacles with it.)

(I’m pretty sure weaponized pepper spray violates the Geneva Convention somehow,) Iris remarked dryly.

(A pity this world didn’t sign on for it,) Cypher returned just as dryly. The two ended up laughing for real before shaking their heads. (We’ll need a gas weapon eventually for indoor fighting. But, priority list and all that.)

(Yup. I’ll work on diluting the mixture and running the tests. Still, we’d be done if we were fine with the lethality of it.)

Cypher scratched the back of her head. (Going lethal is easy. I’d like to get something disabling but not crippling, non-lethal, so on.)

(Short of actual live human testing, I’m struggling to think of an effective gauge. We won’t really know until we go to war, I suspect.)

(We won’t know how any of this stuff works until it gets put into action. Just gotta do the best we can.)

(I’m not exactly itching for bloodshed but it would certainly help make this work a lot clearer.)

(You might get your wish,) Cypher remarked. (I had an idea about dungeons I was going to ask the ones up stairs about.)

(… Dungeons? Like video game dungeons?)

(Yeah. This world is bound to have ruins and old monsters, it’ll be useful exercise.)

(I don’t disagree. Well, I’ll be here working on the mixtures.)

Throwing on the elvetahn dress, Avaron left the laboratory, beginning the long walk up to the surface entrance. Worker drones passed her by and followed up, moving between the different levels of the Hive. There were so many now she had to designate lanes of traffic to make things move along. It rather reminded her of a roadway system; drones driving on the right, making turns into their respective areas, watching left-hand incoming traffic, and so on. With no concept of free will, they never got into roadside accidents or logjammed the incredibly tight system.

Ah, the tip-tap-tip of arachnid legs moving as a great whole.

Not quite musical but the rhythm of it rather soothed her ears. A gentle rustle underlined the sound, that of their densely haired bodies. She hadn’t thought it could actually make a distinct noise, but there it was. The newer drones were all covered in such hair, providing incredible insulation they’d otherwise die without. Another purpose suited them, however. The hair upon their heads had specially different colors, arranged into useful information. These numerical markings denoted genome, respective brood-mother, cloning serial, and some randomly chosen unique identifiers.

While she could instinctually track each drone perfectly, the system was more for Tsugumi and Gwyneth. It was a simple, functional way of giving each one a fingerprint for ‘individual identity’. She meant to experiment with different colored hair and patterns, but that’d be a next generation feature. Finally reaching the last flesh door, Avaron took note of a drone nearby. A crate of porcelain-chitin sat on its back, sealed tight with what she just then discovered to be fresh fruits.

“Oh, everyone will enjoy that, I imagine,” she muttered, popping open the lid and eyeballing them. Oranges, apples, peaches, and some others she only knew through Tahn’s knowledge. All edible and healthy, so that was all that mattered. Closing the lid with a slap, she turned toward the door. It slurped opened and another awaited on the other side. Such was the simple insulating airlock made for the front door. Sucking in a breath, Avaron braced herself.

The moment the outer-facing door opened, a blast of cold, freezing air smacked into her.

“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this,” Avaron muttered, hurrying along with her fruit-carrying drone. The outside of the cave was snowed in, the flowing river frozen over, and everything blanketed in white fluff. Constant going and coming from the Hive’s cave, at least, kept a relatively clear path to Tsugumi’s inn. The snow still reached up half-way on her shins. “Stupid fucking winter and its stupid f—”

A surge of primal instinct rattled her mind. Avaron, her drone, and all the surrounding sentries’ heads snapped in unison to a single location. Barely a baseball’s throw away stood a creature, ostensibly a naked woman. Pearlescent green skin and its odd hues wrapped around limbs, intertwining with roots and vines. In one breath she was beauty incarnate—a wild fertility goddess of the most reverent imaginations. Yet the slightest change of angle turned her into terrifyingly alien, something that wore the facsimile of humanity.

The stranger seemed as surprised as her, if those widening, almost-too-large tourmaline-colored eyes indicated.

_How did she get in?_

Hundreds of flying eyes in the sky, hundreds more on the ground, clicking teeth reverberating like sonar pulses, the raw sensation of living organisms, _sound itself_ —nothing at all registered her presence until just then. One moment she didn’t exist, then she did. Avaron’s eyes narrowed, her hackles rising on pure territorial instinct.

“Oh my,” the stranger said, her smooth voice disturbingly sensual. “I hadn’t expected that.”

“Who are you?” Avaron demanded, no pretense of courtesy.

“I am Nahtura,” she said, flourishing her hands widely open in a grandiose presentation. It also happened to jiggle her impressive, naked breasts, their undersides coated in a bush of leaves and small flowers.

“Cool,” Avaron deadpanned back. “What do you want?”

“Tch.” Nahtura’s smug face turned into a scowl with alarming ease. “My ungrateful daughter has kicked me out, of course. Me, in the middle of winter!”

Avaron’s dubious eyes wavered for a moment, unable to recall anyone that would fit such looks. “Who?”

“Efval, of course.”

“… The queen?” Avaron asked, her head cocking to the side. “You’re _her mother_?”

“Do your ears not work so well?”

“Ah, so you are.” Avaron rolled her eyes. “Then, that makes you Tahn’s wife?”

Nahtura’s head twisted, an unnatural motion of someone shuddering with the deepest of angers. It lasted for but a moment, her whole demeanor snapping back to that eerie pleasantness she kept up. “That, mm, no. He is simply a nice little pollinator. I’m sure you know how it is.”

“I have an idea. Why’d the queen kick you out then?”

“Such a rude daughter I raised,” Nahtura complained, dragging her hands down her face. “Always fussy and wanting things her way. Well, she insisted I go back home, but as it is winter, there is not much home to go back to.”

It made sense, for a creature of the forest as she appeared to be. “And she told you about me?”

“Mm, the little divine heroine, a tentradom of all things, and that wondeful _gun_ you helped her build.”

_So either she is what she says she is or has a compromising amount of information,_ Avaron appraised, already feeling weary.

“Do you have somewhere warm?” Nahtura asked, wrapping her arms around her naked self. Whether to actually protect her skin or emphasize her _obvious_ assets, not even Avaron knew. “I cannot stay in this cold for long.”

“Ahh, yeah,” Avaron grumbled and scratched the back of her head. “You’re welcome to stay, just don’t make any trouble.”

“Me? Trouble?” Nahtura responded with offense.

“You’ll understand when we get inside.”

Whether or not that placated the strange woman, Avaron started toward the inn again. Nahtura approached with a hop and a skip, her faun-like legs making her walk more of a gallop. Whether to walk or get through the snow, Avaron didn’t quite care. The closer the woman came the more alert her senses perked up, some inner part of her animal brain registering danger. Instinct was a funny thing and easy to confuse; still, Avaron made certain there’d always been one drone watching her at all times.

At least she was quite easy on the eyes.

_I need to increase surveillance,_ she mused, reaching up to the sliding front doors of the inn. Pushing the heavy frame open, a blast of sweltering hot air blew washed over her in an instant. She and Nahtura stepped in, the drone pulling up the rear and shutting the door with a hindleg. “I’m back!” Avaron called out in the expansive, noisy central hall. Her words were swallowed up in the dull roar of people working and talking, barely anyone acknowledging her arrival. The whole of the interior had been turned into a makeshift bunkhouse, flimsy walls of tarp and cloth serving as dividers for private areas. It rather impressed her how so many people could fit into one building.

“What is this?” Nahtura asked, looking around with a note of disbelief.

“The only warm house you’d find for miles!” Avaron said, louder to be heard, and beckoned. “Come on!”

She led the way through the somewhat cramped aisles. Arzha’s servants and knights looked up as they passed by, giving her a familiar look, but a much longer one on Nahtura. Not every day a half-woman, half-tree thing walked by completely naked, granted. Toward the back of the hall awaited a wall, cut open to serve as a dinner and seating area. The scent of cooking foods teased her nose on the approach, heavily laced with meat and not much else. Gwyneth and one of Arzha’s knights—Saryl, now that Irs reminded her—were busy handling the food orders. Empty plates went in, full ones came out, all sorts of people coming and go. Arzha herself and one of the Harraxin, Amaya, were actually seated at the counter.

Well, one had a seat, the other a crate.

“Avaron!” Gwyneth called out joyfully, nearly dropping a stack of empty plates with her enthusiastic bounce. Saryl saved her, if just barely. “Who is that?” she asked, recovering with a bashful smile. The others nearby turned, all their gazes falling upon the naked woman behind her.

“This is Nahtura,” Avaron said, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. “Queen Gladestride’s mother, apparently.”

Arzha started choking on the food in her mouth. Amaya smacked her heartily, a gentle motion that still almost sent the human falling to the ground.

“The queen’s mother? Here?” Gwyneth chirped, and Saryl wisely took the plates from her before they fell again. “How wonderful to meet you!” she said, bowing hurriedly.

“So you’re the one,” Nahtura said, an appraising tone to her voice.

Amidst all the noise and people, Avaron simply turned her head. A tiny glance from the corner of her eye, enough to stare straight into Nahtura’s own. To any other it looked nothing interesting; but between them, a wordless intent was communicated. All of Avaron’s keen, hyperaware focus poured into that one look, a flexing of her vastly quiet presence that made magically sensitive like Amaya perk up on reflex. Nahtura seemed taken aback, if only for a moment—her following smile oozed satisfaction and terrifying pleasure.

“My daughter mentioned her, is all,” Nahtura said simply, waving her hand to clear away proverbial smoke. “Priestesses of the Flame have a bad relationship with us.”

“Something I keep hearing but no one ever tells me,” Avaron remarked, turning back to Gwyneth. Clapping her hands, the cargo-carrying drone hustled up, slapping the porcelain crate onto the wooden countertop. “Here’s the fruits, at least.”

“… Fruits?” Nahtura wondered aloud.

“Really?” Gwyneth asked. So it was Avaron slid off the lid, and they all peeked at the gleaming oranges awaiting within.

“Yup. They’re about as good as I can make them. Bit odd a forest has orange trees, but whatever.”

“We shouldn’t,” Nahtura remarked, blinking owlishly. “They have not grown here for … a long, time. Where did you find these?”

“Hm. Grew them myself,” Avaron said, sticking her nose up slightly.

“I don’t feel any magic in them,” Nahtura pointed out.

“Eh? No magic, really. It was pretty tricky, admittedly, but I mean—” Avaron picked out an orange and held it out to her, “—taste for yourself.”

Nahtura took the offering suspiciously, rolling the orange over in her hands. She gave it a sniff and a careful, thinking look for a moment. Satisfied or not, she nodded and pressed in her two thumbs, breaking into the orange’s flesh. Far easier than anyone had a right to, she split the thing in half for the most part, a gush of sticky, sweet smelling juice spilling out.

“Tsugumi’s gonna kill me,” Avaron muttered dryly at the sight.

Giving the innards a sniff and a lick, Nahtura’s face contorted into a tight expression. She took a mighty bite out, flesh and sweet insides alike, chewing with absolutely zero manners at all. It rather surprised Avaron that this woman claimed to be Efval’s mother at all. Before she could say a word about it, Nahtura started tightening, a quiet squeal arising in her throat. Just after she swallowed, she jumped up with her hands launching outward.

“Incredible! It is!” her yell filled the hall, accompanied by an explosion of magic. Green-and-blue colored wisps shot out in every direction, hitting all kinds of surfaces randomly. With a flashing pop, flowers, small bushes, and little trees sprung into existence. Surprised yelps and yells filled the hall as everyone found themselves dodging or being hit by the wayward magic. For those it hit, the plants turned into wreaths of themselves, beautiful looking if quite sudden. For as quick as it started, it ended, the last of the magic fading as all sorts of plants now dotted the insides.

Avaron, half-ready to shoulder-tackle the strange woman, gaped at the sight. “Wh-what did you do?!” she said, her voice cracking and turning the yell into a squeak.

“Hm?” Nahtura looked away from her orange, taking in the mess she’d made all around them. Hiding her face behind the fruit, her Cheshire smile could just barely be seen. “How embarrassing. Seems there’s a bit of spring in me still.”

“What does that—”

“What happened in here?!”

Avaron’s sucked her lips in as her accusing finger wilted like a dying flower. (Hey, so does anyone want to change place—)

(We’re good,) the other nine cut her off immediately.

Turning around, Avaron regarded Tsugumi, decked out in a cooking apron and four eyes demanding an answer. “Alright, so I can explain.”

*~*~*

**Current Relationships:**

Gwyneth Flamestoker (lv.7) – Brood Mother (lv.1)

Arzha Shieldcrown (lv.22) – Refugee Princess

->Arzha’s Snowflake Knights (lv.??) – Cordial Acquittances

Tsugumi Silkweave (lv.16) – Brood Mother (lv.2)

Cecile (lv.??) – Abandoned Stranger

Efval Gladestride (lv.??) – Foreign Queen

Nuala the Black (lv.??) – Desperate Magi

Nahtura (lv.??) – Mysterious Mother


End file.
